#sylas x reader
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♡ LOL character favorite kissing spot ♡
They love kissing your face everywhere
Akshan, EZREAL, Rakan, Brand, AHRI, Miss Fortune, NEEKO
They love kissing your cheeks
Garen, JAYCE, Talon, AKALII, Ash, Taliyah, Xayah
They love kissing your forehead
Aatrox, Lee Sin, MORDEKAISER, Xin Zhao, SAMIRA, Rell, Vladmir, Vayne, Thresh
They love kissing your temples
Darius, Pyke, SHEN, Morgana, Senna, CAITLYN
They love to kiss your hands
JHIN, Lucian, Swain, ZED, Sejuani, DIANA
They love kissing your neck
Graves, SYLAS, Elise, EVELYNN, Leona, Sivir
They love kissing the tip of your nose
Aphelios, VIKTOR, Varus, Gwen, JINX, Seraphine
They love kissing your shoulders
Kassadin, Pantheon, YONE, Katarina, Syndra, IRELIA
They love kissing your lips
Draven, KAYN, Viego, EKKO, Lux, Zyra
You are entirely their favorite kissing spot
SETT, Twisted Fate, Tryndamere, YASUO, Kai'sa, VI
They don't have lips to kiss you sorry-
Thresh haha
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Spellbound Shackles (Sylas/Reader)
Sorry for the many delays on this one, but I powered through to get this edited and up today! As per my usual with these, there is smut in this one, so people are warned!
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“You’re a demon!” the frightened woman screamed, scrambling to grasp at the stone wall behind her to pull herself up from the ground.
“Submit to custody or I will be forced to restrain you,” you ordered, voice cold as ice.
“You’re a monster!” she screeched, eyes darting around, but no escape was to be found in the dead end alley. “Are you even human?”
You didn’t reply, only stared at her, watching for any signs of the fight you knew would be coming. You saw it in her eyes first, then in her fingers, twitching as she readied a blast of magic to try and hurtle your way to allow her a chance to escape your pursuit.
But she didn’t have the experience that you had. The second her fingers twitched, you sent a blast of ice her way, quickly pinning her hands to the wall behind her, those twitching fingers now encased in thick ice. Struggle as she may, her flight had now been ended.
There was shock and hatred in her eyes as she looked from her icy hands to where you stood. “But you’re… how could you? You’re one of us!”
“Good work,” came the slick voice of a tall man with a white mask covering the left side of his face as he entered the alley. “We will take possession of the mage. The head adept will be waiting for your report.”
“Of course,” you replied with a slight bow of your head, retreating to allow the man as well as several other half-masked individuals to get by you.
“You’re a traitor to your own kind!” the woman screamed at your back as you turned to leave the alleyway. “You’re killing us! How do you sleep at night when our blood is staining your–”
“That’s enough!” a woman barked, and the mage’s words turned into a cry of pain.
The woman said something else to the mage, but you were too far away now to hear it. The mage’s words were nothing special; you had heard them before, and would continue to hear them until the day you died, if Head Adept Crownguard had anything to say about the matter.
Exiting the alleyway, you quickened your pace, knowing that the head adept was not fond of being kept waiting. People stared as you passed, likely having just watched you pursue the fleeing mage, but nobody called out to you. Not many people were eager to make conversation with a mageseeker.
You didn’t mind the stares and the whispers, knowing that the mask covering the top half of your face spared you even more scrutiny. It was already bad enough that you were a dangerous mage, but the head adept had no intentions of allowing the public to discover your age as well.
Most mageseekers were in their late thirties or older, after spending their younger years training for the role. Powers like yours could not be wasted when they could serve your kingdom, or at least that was what the head adept had said when he had promoted you to the service at the age of nineteen. You supposed he was right, as by the time seven years had passed, you had one of the highest rates of mage capture of anyone in the order.
Your record had never mattered to you, however, nor did serving your kingdom. You had only one thing that mattered to you, and you were hoping that your success today would allow you to see her.
You entered the mageseeker compound, passing by the training grounds and heading straight to the office at the end of the long hallway. Coming to a stop before the large gold-accented door, you knocked two times, entering as soon as you heard the call to enter.
Eldred Crownguard sat at his desk, the papers in front of him stacked in a neat pile, his cold gray eyes on you as you closed the door behind you. Knowing he did not care for delays, you approached his desk, standing still and straight before him.
“Lord Crownguard, I–”
“Remove your mask when you speak to me,” he interrupted coldly, and you quickly did as he asked, hoping that his current demeanor was not a bad sign for how this conversation would go. Even with how long you had been a mageseeker for, you still had a hard time assessing his moods, as they could often change in a split second.
He didn’t say anything else, but his stern eyes on you told you that you were expected to begin your report now.
“The mage fled through the ironworks district and was captured in an alley,” you spoke. “There were no casualties or damage to civilian property.”
“And her powers?” he inquired, eyes narrowing.
“Suspected kinetic energy manipulation,” you answered. “She was captured before I could confirm the suspected nature of her powers.”
Eldred let out a huff in response, and you held your breath, unsure if this signalled his displeasure with you or not. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up, with all the emotion of someone commenting on the weather.
“It’s no matter. I’ll send someone to beat it out of her later.”
You did not reply, nor move. It wasn’t like you were unaware of what happened to captured mages; you had visited the dungeons on occasion, sometimes tasked to observe these interrogations.
Eldred made allusions to the brutal practices of the mageseekers on occasion, which always led you to wonder why. Did he believe that you fully supported the cause and saw no issues with its practices, or was it simply a tactic to remind you what would happen to you if you ever disobeyed orders? You would think that seven years of service to the order would have earned you some measure of trust, but not with Head Adept Crownguard. Mages were dangerous and should never be trusted, as went the first line in the speech he gave to the new recruits to the order every year. As it was, he was clearly only confident in using you because he had her.
Eldred looked down at his papers for a moment before looking back at you, like he had forgotten that you were there. He let out an annoyed exhale, his eyes looking like he was looking through you instead of at you. “I suppose you would like to see her then.”
“If it would not be an imposition, Lord Crownguard,” you replied quietly.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But do not forget that this privilege is only extended to you contingent on your continued performance of duties for this kingdom.”
“I have not forgotten,” you replied, head bowed.
“See to it that you do not,” he sniffed, sounding annoyed. “I will have her brought to the common room. Dismissed.”
“Of course, Lord Crownguard,” you said, bowing again before taking your leave, not willing to risk sticking around long enough for him to change his mind.
You walked quietly towards the common room, knowing by now that it was unwise to let your excitement show, or really any emotions. Any little happinesses in your life were hard-earned, and they had been taken away before when you were too careless in letting your eagerness show.
Entering the common room, you found it empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. Mageseekers weren’t the type to lay about in the first place, leaving the room fairly redundant to begin with.
You looked to the walls, where the portraits of famous Demacian heroes hung. The largest portraits hung side by side in the center of the wall, depicting the former king, Jarvan III, as well as his newly-crowned son. You had never met either of them; kings would have no need to talk to a lowly mageseeker, especially a shameful mage like yourself, but you had been shocked when you had learned of the former king’s assassination. It was hard to believe that the man with the fierce eyes and gleaming gold armor in the portrait could ever be felled by an assassin, but his newly-crowned son was all the proof needed.
Next to the current king’s portrait was the one your eyes sought to avoid whenever you came in this room. Head Adept Crownguard was somehow just as intimidating in portrait form as he was in the flesh, his steely eyes piercing through you. Even turning your back to the paintings couldn’t cure you of the unsettling feeling of being watched, but at least you were spared from looking at the contempt in his eyes.
“Sister!”
You quickly wiped the no doubt troubled look off your face, smiling warmly as the young girl rushed into the room. Leaning down, you opened your arms to meet her for a hug, her familiar scent bringing you the first taste of peace you’d had all week.
“How were the farmlands?” Halia asked excitedly.
“They were lively,” you lied, pulling back from the hug. “There were so many sheep there. You’d have loved it, Hali.”
Halia smiled brightly, as she always did when you mentioned animals. It always stung to be reminded that you were the reason she couldn’t see the world for herself.
“Can I come with you next time?” she asked, eyes shining with hope. “I promise not to get in the way.”
You couldn’t see them, but you knew there were guards just outside the door, waiting in the hallway. There always were. As always, you had to choose your words very carefully.
“It’s too dangerous, Hali. I don’t want you to get hurt,” you replied, chest burning with shame as disappointment took over her face.
You hated lying to her. You hated that you could never tell her what you did, that you could never see her outside of these sparse moments the head adept granted you. And most of all, you hated that she was just as trapped as you were, despite having no powers of her own.
You chose to turn the conversation towards her schooling, asking about what she had been learning recently. Halia was an eager student; wherever they kept her, it was clear that her only companions were books and her overly-strict teacher, so she often had her head buried in a book, wholly unlike other ten-year-olds you had seen playing with their friends in the streets. You could never really see children playing anymore without thinking of Halia and all she was missing out on because of you.
The visit ended too quickly, as they always did. A Demacian guard with close-cropped hair and a dour expression appeared at the door as you were telling Halia more stories of the animals you had supposedly seen, his appearance the only signal you needed that your time with Halia had come to an end.
Halia heard the footsteps at the doorway and her face dropped, clinging onto you in response. “I don’t want to go yet!”
“Hali…” you murmured softly in response. “It’ll be okay. I’ll see you again soon.”
“It’s not okay!” she protested. “I miss you! Why can’t you get a job here?”
Pushing down the pain from her words, you smiled at her the best you could. “I need to do this job to keep everyone safe, especially you. How about next time I bring you back a treat?”
Halia huffed, not looking fully convinced, but also clearly not wanting to trouble you. It really killed you that you had to mislead her, but what would she say if she knew the truth? Halia was the only ray of light in your life; you didn’t know what you would do if she refused to see you ever again if she learned that you were the reason why she had to live like a caged animal.
“I’ll miss you,” she murmured, her arms wrapping around you in one last hug. “Please come back soon. I don’t care if you bring me anything as long as you come see me again soon.”
“I’ll miss you too,” you replied, voice shaking more than you would like it to in the presence of the guards. “I’ll see you soon and I’ll bring you something great. You just focus on your studies until then.”
“I will,” Halia promised. “Miss Craws says I’m a year ahead of kids my age in–”
“Halia,” the guard interrupted sternly, voice belying his impatience, his tone implying that he would not be asking a second time.
“I love you, sis!” Halia cried before making her way to the door where the guard waited. “Bye!”
“Bye Hali,” you replied in turn. “I love you too. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
You were treated to a last happy grin from your sister, and then she was gone, disappearing around the corner with the guard. The second she was out of your sight, you felt like your spirit left with her. As it was, the only time you really felt like a person was when she was with you; the rest of your time you spent doing the head adept’s bidding, feeling more like an attack dog than a human being.
Sitting down on one of the couches, you tried to not allow your despair to swallow you whole. This wasn’t the life you had envisioned for you and Halia, not by a long shot, but it wasn’t like you could hide away from the knowledge that it was all your fault.
Halia had no memories of your parents, and you were barely any better in that regard. They had died from a sickness that had been plaguing your small town when she was barely a year old. Thirteen years old at the time, you and Halia found yourselves alone in the world and quickly shipped off to an orphanage in a larger city far from home.
You had been allowed to remain together, taking on the care of your younger sister when she otherwise may have gone neglected. The orphanage fed you, but it was never too often and never more than the bare minimum to keep you alive.
You had been existing in poverty, but at least you were together, up until the day you turned eighteen. When you had woken up that morning, you were given notice to leave, now that you had aged out of care. They would not let you stay, and would not let Halia leave with you, given that she was only six.
You had never been without each other, and the stress of being torn apart awakened the magic inside you that you never knew you had. You had frozen over half of the city before the mageseekers arrived on the scene to find you cradling Halia to yourself as your ice raged on.
In hindsight, you were probably lucky you hadn’t been killed on sight that day; a mage with powers like yours were a great danger to the kingdom, one that must be controlled or killed, and that day they had chosen control.
You were brought to Demacia City, the shining capital of the kingdom, which was to become your gilded cage. You would no longer worry about Halia getting enough to eat, but in exchange, you were to see her only at the whim of the head adept, a privilege that he never let you forget was tied to your performance of duties for the mageseekers. Sometimes you wondered if it would have been better if you had just taken Halia and ran that day; maybe then the both of you could have been happy.
But it was far too late for thoughts like that now. You had lived like this for too long to see a way out; you had come to reason that this life in a cage was better than one where you were dead and Halia was alone. At least this way you could make sure she was clothed and fed, even if you had to settle for watching her grow up from afar.
With a sigh, you stood up, knowing that you probably shouldn’t stay brooding on this couch long enough for someone to come by and see you. Not that they would have much to say to you; it wasn’t unexpected for a mage to be unpopular amongst a group of people whose sworn duty was to hunt down your kind. You reasoned that it was better to be ignored than bullied, though it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard some of the things they would say behind your back. It was an odd position to be in, reviled by both mages and mageseekers alike.
Placing your mask back on your face, you began the short walk back to the mageseeker barracks. You could only hope that wherever they kept Halia, it was less dreary than the cold stone walls that made up your room.
You had few personal effects, not finding yourself with much need for idle trinkets. Besides the books on the dangers of magic provided to you by the order, you didn’t require much for your work. The only exception to your barren room were the colorful drawings above your bed, given to your over the years by Halia. Most days, the reminder of why you were doing this felt like the only reason you hadn’t completely lost your soul.
Your bed was cold, or at least you assumed it was; you had stopped feeling the cold back when your powers had first manifested. What you wouldn’t give to be back there, susceptible to the cold, but able to be with your sister. But that would never happen again, not when she was the perfect tool to ensure your compliance. All you could do was make sure you stayed on the head adept’s good side, your last thought before sleep pondering what to buy for Halia to keep your promise to her.
Donning your uniform and mask, you made your way back to the compound early the next morning to receive your patrol orders. Like all in the order, your own uniform was a mix of black, white and royal blue with gold accents. You wore blue pants tucked into long white boots, as well as a long white cape over a tight black shirt. You were unsure if others were able to choose their own outfits, but you just wore what you were given without complaint. After all, clothing mattered little to you as long as it did not inhibit your ability to take down mages.
You were greeted with a nod from one of the upper-ranking mageseekers, who seemed to be the one delegating the orders today. You waited in silence as orders were given to the others around you, some being sent on missions, while others were given a section of the city to patrol for any suspicious activity.
You waited for your assignment to come, but your name went unspoken. It wasn’t until everyone else had left for their assignments that you were then beckoned forward by the senior adept.
“You are to report to the head adept for your assignment,” he told you simply before taking his leave, leaving you alone in the room with a pit of unease in your stomach.
You had never been told to report to Lord Crownguard for an assignment before. What could be so big of an issue that the head adept would be intervening personally? Your thoughts drifted in a more dangerous direction as you walked back to the head adept’s office. Could the assignment be a cover to get you before him so he could dismiss you from the service and imprison you instead?
Very quickly, you found yourself once again before Eldred, whose face remained passive, refusing to give you any clues as to why you were here. You were mentally praying for Halia to forgive you when he finally spoke up.
“Your work has been satisfactory as of late,” he said. “So much so that I have seen to it that you have been re-assigned. I presume you have heard of Sylas of Dregbourne?”
Sylas of Dregbourne. The kingslayer. The traitor. The mass murderer. The most dangerous mage in the history of Demacia, as well as the kingdom’s single greatest enemy. There was not a person in Demacia who had not heard his name.
Most had heard the stories of the heartless murderer who had turned his back on Demacia and slaughtered indiscriminately before being caught and imprisoned for fifteen years. Then again of his surprise revolt at his execution, stealing the powers of a nearby mage before killing everyone in the crowd, as well as destroying a large section of the mageseeker compound. You had been away on a mission at the time of the attempted execution, and had felt for the entire year it had been since then that Sylas’ escape and following rampage had caused you to need to go above and beyond in your duties to prove to your order that you were not like him.
“I have,” you answered simply. As if you could forget, with all the whispers wondering if you would be the next mage to turn traitor.
“He has been making a great effort to bolster his forces as of late,” Eldred said, voice dripping with disdain. “We have spared no effort to locate and contain these mages before he can recruit them to his… group. But we must also take a more direct approach with Sylas if we are to end this little resistance before it begins, and that is why I have called you here.”
You were relieved that this was not a punishment meeting, but the prospect of being assigned to help combat Demacia’s most wanted fugitive was equally daunting.
“Sylas must not be allowed to bring his schemes to fruition,” Eldred declared gravely. “You are to focus solely on capturing Sylas so that an example can be made of him. His death will show other terrorist scum that they cannot hope to bring harm to our great kingdom.”
His contempt for the fugitive mage was plain in his voice. You had not known the head adept to be particularly emotional about anything, making it all the more clear just how much Sylas had gotten under his skin.
“I expect results from you, do I make myself perfectly clear?” he hissed, and you nodded in response. “Good. Sylas must be captured, and I will not tolerate failure. I would prefer he be alive for an execution, but kill him if you must.”
The atmosphere of the room felt heavy and oppressive. You felt like he was trying to draw out a reaction from you, but what he was expecting, you didn’t know. You had never caused a fatality on-job, but you had heard of it happening occasionally. Some mages were too dangerous to keep alive, and your main focus was continuing to prove that you were not one of them. If it came down to you or Sylas, you would not hesitate, not when your time with Halia was on the line. You had learned over the years that the only way to survive was to become heartless, and it had worked for you so far.
“High Adept Darnon will brief you on the information we have so far,” Eldred added. “Dismissed.”
“Of course, sir,” you replied, turning to leave.
A call of your name had you freezing in place, facing the door. “One last thing. Do not make the mistake of letting Sylas get his ideas in your head. I would hate for little Halia to get mixed up in this matter.”
“I will take care, sir,” you said, nails biting into your palms to supress a shudder at his not-so-veiled threat against Halia.
“See that you do,” he replied simply, and you took that as your cue to leave.
The air felt lighter the moment you entered back out into the hallway. Now that you weren’t in front of the head adept, you could take a moment to just breathe. Normally you could easily handle his abrasive manner, but you were always on edge every time Halia was brought up.
This was likely to be the most difficult job you had ever undertaken, if Eldred’s threats were any indication. He hardly ever made threats like that anymore, so confident in his control over you that he seemed to have deemed them unnecessary. So what was it about Sylas that put Eldred so on edge? What could Sylas possibly say to you that the head adept was so concerned about? You had heard all manner of insults and pleas from the mages you captured, and you were confident that nothing Sylas could say would affect you.
High Adept Darnon had clearly been expecting you, as he had set up a chair in front of his desk, a map of the city rolled out across his desk. Sitting down, you noticed that the map had been marked with several red X’s that were largely concentrated around the heart of the city.
“Those X’s mark the most recent sightings of the kingslayer,” he explained. “We know he’s planning something, and we need to put a stop to it before it begins. Your only responsibility going forward will be to capture Sylas. All reports on future sightings will be forwarded your way, starting with this.”
You were handed a stack of papers, the map on Darnon’s desk quickly rolled up and added to your pile. While the stack wasn’t heavy, it was significantly more information than you were used to. Even the most complicated and dangerous cases you had been tasked with had not required quite so much preparation. Holding the papers to your chest, you began to wonder if you were really capable of capturing the most dangerous mage Demacia had ever seen. But you had no choice, so you took the documents and headed to the compound’s library.
Laying claim to a large table, you spread the papers out in front of you, immediately diving in. According to the reports, Sylas had been laying low for the past few months, but had suddenly reappeared, at least according to the various reported sightings spread out over the last week and a half.
There wasn’t much to go off of in the potential motives section, at least nothing you couldn’t have guessed yourself. Things like likely intends to attempt a prison break or likely to target locations of significant value to Demacia. Was there no better information to go off of? You were usually given a list of your target’s most frequented locations, but what you had here was shaky at best.
The dungeons at the mageseeker compound were too well-guarded for Sylas to attempt to infiltrate with anything less than an army at his side, so you didn’t think he would be eager to appear in an area that was guaranteed to be crawling with mageseekers. As for the locations of significant value to Demacia, there was no shortage of buildings in Demacia City that fit that description. How were you supposed to know what Sylas was planning with his recent appearances in the city with this little information?
With not much to work off of, you were forced to improvise, deciding to begin with patrolling the alleys near several prominent Demacian buildings, hoping to catch sight of the wanted mage skulking around.
You had not been at his attempted execution, nor seen him in the mage prison for the fifteen years he had been down there, so you would have to rely on the wanted posters to aid you in recognizing him. As you walked towards one of the city’s largest temples, you stopped to look at one of the posters that had been pasted to a nearby wall.
Even though it was just a drawing, you could feel the contempt in his eyes, the drawing’s gaze making you feel like he was daring you to challenge him. He wasn’t particularly well-kempt, with scruffy-looking facial hair and wild, slicked-back dark hair that was more reminiscent of a common vagrant. You were confident that you could recognize him if you saw him; no matter what he wore, he couldn’t hide the anger in his eyes.
Taking up a position on a nearby rooftop, you kept your eyes on the darker alleyways that led up to the temple, watching for anyone who looked out of place. Sylas must have allies in and out of the city, so it would not be out of the question for him to send someone to do his scouting for him, which meant that there would be someone to interrogate for their boss’ location.
By hour four of your stakeout, you were forced to confront the increasingly likely possibility that Sylas was not in the city, or had chosen another target location for tonight. Although the probability of you encountering Sylas on your first night was low, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you began to climb down from the roof; this was your best chance to prove that you were trustworthy enough to get regular visits with Halia, so you could not afford to fail.
Reluctant to leave, you decided to take one more look around before you would admit defeat for the night, heading into a nearby alleyway.
The temple was only really busy during the day, so by now the whole area was silent as you quietly walked down the alley, eyes and ears out for anything suspicious. Most of the Sylas sightings had been at night, so you had that in your favor, but that would all mean little if you produced no results.
So far you had heard nothing but your own light footsteps and the distant cry of an owl, certainly nothing that would indicate the presence of the leader of a terrorist assemblage. Finally, you decided to change course and head back to the mageseeker barracks, resigned to the fact that you would not see him tonight. You would have to switch your focus to a different area tomorrow.
“…won’t even notice it missing,” came a male voice from somewhere to your left.
Turning your head, you crept closer to the sudden voice, which seemed to be coming from outside a closed shopfront.
“They’ll be put to good use,” another male responded, his voice deep and accented slightly.
“I trust they will,” the first man responded as you flattened yourself against the wall to peer out of the alley.
The man closest to you had his back facing you and was wearing a dark hooded cloak, so there wasn’t much to recognize. He was also fairly tall and seemed well-built under his cloak, which frustratingly blocked your sight of the man he was talking to. You could be eavesdropping on an innocent goods exchange for all you knew, but something in you didn’t want to leave this alone just yet.
You took a step forward, intent on getting a better look over the hooded man’s shoulder, but the minute movement seemed to set something off in the hooded man, who suddenly snapped his head back to face you.
Even under the shadow of his hood and the cover of darkness, you recognized those angry blue eyes clear as day. This man was unmistakably Sylas of Dregbourne.
“Go!” Sylas barked at the other man who quickly scattered before you could get a good look at him, which left you alone with your current target.
Sylas’ eyes were dark with disgust as he took you in, surprising you by taking a step towards you. “Chosen the side of our oppressors, have you?”
So it was true what they said, that he had the power to sense magic in others. That, and his ability to steal the magic of others through touch, which you were not willing to test with yourself. You would have to take him down without letting him touch you.
“Surrender to arrest, Sylas of Dregbourne,” you spoke coldly as you worked to assess the easiest way to capture him.
“I am of Dregbourne no longer, mageseeker,” he sneered. “This kingdom is home to no mage as long as your kind is in power.”
You stepped forward, but he was faster. Flinging back his cloak, Sylas unleashed the chains attached to his thick gauntlets, a chain catching you around the ankle before you could react and sending you crashing into the wall face-first.
You heard a loud crack as you hit the wall, your head exploding with dizziness at the impact. Initially, you thought that you had broken your nose, but when you pulled away from the wall, you found that the crack had instead come from your mask that was now in several pieces on the floor.
You quickly turned back to face Sylas, but your current dizziness as well as the blood dripping across your vision from a cut on your forehead was making it hard for you to focus. As you turned to face him, you noticed his eyes widen slightly, his sneer becoming more of a frown.
“Still recruiting young, are they?” he spoke, the sudden pity in his voice making you feel uncomfortable.
Realizing your face was now exposed, you went to pick up your mask, but Sylas beat you to it, one of his chains coming down on the pieces and reducing the mask nearly to dust.
“Leave it,” he snarled, advancing on you. “Do not let them replace your identity with theirs.”
Your identity? You briefly considered his words, but pushed the troublesome thoughts away. You would not allow him to get in your head, just as High Adept Darnon had warned you.
“Submit to…” you started, words trailing off as another wave of dizziness hit you. Just how hard had you hit your head?
It was no matter, you could still capture him. Raising a hand, you sent a burst of ice at Sylas, blinking in disbelief when it hit the wall two feet to his left. At first, you presumed he had done something to deflect it, but then your focus cleared for a moment as you realized that your aim couldn’t have been further off. What was wrong with you? One head injury and all your training went out the window?
Glancing at your ice with interest, Sylas turned his eyes back to you as you gripped at the wall beside you, struggling to remain upright. You didn’t like the way he was just standing there, silently appraising you, but your head was pounding too hard to conjure up another blast of ice.
“Better run home, snowflake,” he said at last. “I’d hate for that concussion to get worse. I need you clearheaded for the next time we meet.”
“Wait!” you cried out, staggering forward, but he was already gone. Too dizzy to give chase, you slumped to the ground, ice spreading across the stone as your hand met the ground.
Pulling your icy hand to your chest, you sat back against the wall, closing your eyes as you were overwhelmed with frustration and pain.
You had no idea how long it took for your head to stop spinning, but it was at least still dark out. Looking to your side, you gathered the broken pieces of your mask, unsure of how you were going to explain your need for a new mask to your superiors. You had never failed before, not like this, being defeated so soundly before you had a chance to counterattack.
Dragging yourself back to your room, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the drawings of Halia’s above your bed that had always given you such strength, feeling like you didn’t deserve them right now. He was right there in front of you, and you let him get away. You knew that you would have to report the run-in to your superiors, but you would put it off until tomorrow, by when you hoped your head would have stopped ringing. Guilt and unease burning in your chest, you fell into a dreamless sleep.
Waking up, you found that the dizzying pain had now dulled into a mild headache that refused to abate. You could only imagine how much worse your day would get when you went to report the previous night’s incident and request a new mask.
Leaving the compound after accomplishing your tasks, you supposed it could have all gone worse.
Your head injury wasn’t serious, as assessed by an annoyed mageseeker medic, who seemed displeased to have to treat a mage, even if you were one of the order. She had suggested you use your own powers to keep your head cold until the pain passed, not-so-kindly following it up with a suggestion to do so after you had removed yourself from her presence.
The sentiment was not unusual, but it was usually said behind your back. As much as the rejection stung, their acceptance was not needed as long as Halia’s safety did not depend on them. And for High Adept Crownguard’s many faults, he at least did not put any stock in idle complaints from members of the order who were less than happy to have a dirty mage among their ranks.
Adept Darnon hadn’t been particularly happy to hear of your failure, making you repeat every bit of the encounter in detail, but you hadn’t been punished for your failure like you had assumed. You got off with orders to not underestimate Sylas next time, and were dismissed to go get a replacement mask. Compared to how you were usually treated, the harsh scolding felt almost friendly, especially in comparison to what the head adept would do if he knew of your failure.
Returning to your room, you laid on your bed, placing a cold hand on your forehead to try and rid yourself of your persistent headache, but that was really the least of your problems right now.
You had been a mageseeker for seven years, in training for even longer, and yet Sylas was able to beat you in a fraction of a second. For a moment, you felt your confidence waver dangerously; could you really do this? But just as quickly, you dismissed the thought; you could not fail, if not for yourself, then for Halia. If you were sent to prison or worse, then what would happen to her?
The cold eventually took away your headache, but your head felt no less heavy. The next time you saw Sylas again, you would have to do whatever it took to capture him. The mageseekers did not tolerate failure for long.
The next time you encountered Sylas was almost a week later, on a silent street near the harbor.
Unwilling to allow the fight to be so one-sided this time, you struck first, sending a chunk of ice hurtling at his back. Just in time, he turned, leaping to the side as the ice crashed against the pole behind him, bending it slightly inward.
“I was hoping I would see you tonight,” he smirked, looking completely unfazed as you advanced on him, ice at the ready.
“Sylas of Dregbourne, stand down and submit to arrest,” you commanded, summoning several sharp icicles.
“Come now,” he replied, looking bored. “You have your own mind, yet you repeat their lines like an obedient little parrot?”
As with before, it was clear that he would not be peacefully submitting to your commands, but that was not unusual; nine times out of ten, mages would resist arrest. But this time you were prepared to do whatever you had to in order to take him into custody. Irritatingly, however, Sylas seemed intent on engaging you in conversation instead of combat.
Dodging the icicles, he made an effort to close the gap between you, but you backed up in turn, sending a freezing blast forward to dissuade him from getting too close to you. If he was able to touch you and steal your powers, then things would become much more difficult for you.
“You must have seen the dungeons,” he taunted, refusing to back down. “Seen how they live down there. Decided that you would sell your soul to avoid the same fate?”
His tone was taunting and angry, and you were frustrated by how easily his words got under your skin. How dare he assumed you liked living like this. Your sudden frustration only drove you more to want to beat him, if only so you wouldn’t have to hear him talk.
“I’ve been where you are, snowflake,” he said, evading another wave of ice you sent at him. “If you think they care about you, you’re wrong. You’re a tool to them, one they won’t hesitate to throw away the moment you’re no longer useful. You’ll never be accepted in Demacia, not as it is now.”
Did he think you didn’t know that? You had never been unaware of your place in this kingdom, and the fragile nature of its acceptance of you. But what he was saying could not change your fate; there was no way out of this life for you.
“Submit to arrest!” you retorted, anger regretfully bleeding into your voice.
Sylas grinned, seemingly pleased to have touched a nerve within you. “They use you because they believe they can control you. No matter how many mages you capture, they will never free you from their grasp!”
“I know that!” you exclaimed, surprising both him and yourself with your sudden outburst.
“So you do have your own voice,” he replied, deflecting more ice from hitting him with his gauntlet.
Your heart was beating too loudly in your ears as you tried to refocus yourself. His words could not get to you; maybe if you repeated that lie a few more times, you would actually believe it.
Desperate to stop him from talking, you sent blast after blast of ice his way, forcing him to have to go on the defensive. As he dodged or deflected each blast, you found yourself growing more and more frustrated, your efforts only leading to you becoming a panting mess, your body feeling increasingly drained of energy.
Staring down the fugitive mage, you felt physically and emotionally drained, and were having a hard time processing what you were feeling right now. How had he so easily made you lose control? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had raised your voice, let alone been angry enough to do so. Something about the man before you unlocked all the emotions you tried so hard to bury deep, and it scared you.
You felt like a cornered animal, but were surprised to see that Sylas wasn’t looking at you like one. There was no judgment or pity in his eyes; staring back at him, you were struck by the thought that he was looking at you like you were a person, unlike all the people who looked at you like a tightly-controlled attack dog. You could almost see a different life in his eyes, a life where you could be as free as he was.
But then rational thought took over and you finally pieced your mental mask back together. Halia was counting on you, the mageseekers were counting on you, Demacia was coming on you. And here you were, being swayed by the words of a mass-murderer.
Feeling renewed of energy, your magic began to work itself into a flurry, the ground around you icing over. Sylas frowned as he took in the sudden change, but did not move to run or defend himself as you raised a hand to direct the icy storm his way.
“A pity, snowflake,” he spoke with measured disappointment. “It seems you require more time to think. I advise you to go back to your precious archives and see exactly what happened to me before you choose your side.”
Just as you went to unleash the blast of cold, you were knocked off balance by a hit to your shoulder, causing you to stumble to the side, spikes of ice jutting up from the ground towards the hill that led down to the harbor. Righting yourself, you looked down to see a blunt arrow on the ground, hard enough to bruise, but not sharp enough to pierce your skin.
Looking in the direction of the shot, you saw nothing, not that you had really expected to. With a jolt of horror, you turned back forward, only to confirm your sudden suspicion that Sylas had once again disappeared.
Sprinting forward, you looked around the area, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the retreating fugitive, but the distraction had done its job well. There were numerous paths that led all over the city, and you had no way of knowing which way he had gone.
With a frustrated exhale, you turned your eyes back to the ground. You had let him get away not once but twice now. And worse yet, you had let him into your head again. You would need to make sure that your next encounter with him was your last, unless you wanted your world to crumble away around you along with your mind.
It was easy to avoid the other mageseekers as you returned to your room. Unless they needed something from you, nobody talked to you, and from your own experience, most didn’t even like to be in the same room as you, let alone in a conversation.
But this way of life kept you safe. You had Halia after all; you didn’t need anyone or anything else as long as you had your sister. You had never questioned this life before, so why was it that your world now felt shakier than ever?
You wanted to forget last night had happened, but Sylas’ words haunted you like a ghost. Even a night’s sleep couldn’t shake his final words from your brain, and by the next evening, you had returned to the mageseeker archives under the guise of conducting additional research. At least the library was empty, and would likely remain that way so long as you were here; for once, you were grateful for your social paraiahdom, even if just because it let you research in peace.
You weren’t sure what Sylas wanted you to find in the order’s records. Did he think that you knowing the grisly details of his sudden murder spree would bring you to his side? You weren’t like him; you had never killed anyone before. What was he so sure that you would find here?
Mageseekers insisted upon keeping detailed records of operation, so it wasn’t very difficult for you to locate the investigation reports. Going back fifteen years, you found that there was quite a lot to look through; there must have been a lot of mages captured that year. Grabbing a few records from the start of that year, you set up at a nearby table, spreading the records out in front of you.
At first, the records looked ordinary, not unlike a report that would be filed today. You had begun to think that this may have been a useless endeavor, at least until you got to the last report in your current stack.
You didn’t recognize the name of the two mageseekers that led that particular mission, but you did recognize the name of the junior adept listed just below. Sylas.
The report went on to detail the mission, a fairly standard one involving a mage with a somewhat weak ability to communicate with animals. She had been living in a small village, and had been reported to the mageseekers for her strange behavior. With his powers of mage detection, Sylas had easily identified the mage, who did not resist capture and was taken in to custody immediately. The report ended with a line stating the mage would be transferred to the mage prison and treated with petricite for her condition.
While her magic seemed relatively harmless, you had been taught that all magic was a threat; if even the slightest spark of magic was left unchecked, it could mean the end of Demacia. Magic was too dangerous to go unchecked and uncontrolled; that control was the only reason you had a job and a life outside of the dark dungeons of the mage prison.
You stood up, making your way back over to the shelves, this time gathering some reports from the middle of that year. By that point in the year, Sylas had gone from a junior to a fully-fledged adept, despite the fact that he must have been somewhere in his mid-teens at the time. Belatedly, you mentally placed that year as one where your parents were still alive, and you and Halia had been happy, blissfully unaware of what was to come.
Sylas seemed to have been very active in the order by this point, if the sheer number of reports bearing his name as an investigator were any indication. His ability to see the magic in mages was so useful that they seemed to often have him walk around the city, the mageseekers capturing anyone whose magic lit up to Sylas’ eyes. Sylas’ record of mage capture was impressive, apprehending more mages in that year than you had in your entire tenure as a mageseeker. In today’s standards, the order would be lucky to arrest even a fourth of the number they had that year.
But the streak had to come to an end, which led you to a report near the end of that year, which looked innocuous until you pulled it out, noting the sheer amount of red ink on the report.
It was clear immediately how this report was different. Three mageseekers were listed on the report, two of which had a red line struck through their names, and the word deceased written next to them. Adept Sylas’ name stood alone as the only one unmarred by red pen, and by the fate that it signalled.
From evidence pieced together at the scene, it seemed that Sylas had somehow channeled the suspected mage’s powers, which had gone critical, killing both the mage and the two mageseekers, leaving their charred bodies and fleeing into the night. When captured a week later, Sylas had claimed the incident was the result of an accident, but the damage had clearly been done.
Setting the report down, you frowned. Sylas of Dregbourne, the bloody mass-murderer parents warned their children about… everyone had heard the stories of the victims he had stalked and killed all over the kingdom before he was caught, but the truth was dull in comparison. The bloodthirsty rampage was nothing more than an accident, but it seemed to have been enough for Sylas to be seen as a threat.
Your breathing felt shallow as you poured over the information. Sylas had suffered the fate you had always feared for yourself, being turned on by the order you served and locked in the mage prison for the rest of your life. It was no wonder he had become like he had; you were sure you would also feel bitter about your kingdom if one slip-up led to you losing Halia for good.
You could see why Sylas would want to direct you here, but the information changed nothing. If you acted against mageseeker interests, you would risk losing Halia. Of course, Sylas wasn’t aware of her existence, but even if he was, there was nothing he could do for you. He could hate you if he wanted, but you had to capture him to selfishly save you and Halia from his fate. Your freedom meant nothing if she wasn’t free too, so you would continue to be a good little mageseeker, even as the knowledge of your hypocrisy twisted your heart.
There wasn’t a choice; you had no choices to make here, you repeated to yourself as you headed towards the grand plaza in central Demacia City. There had been reports the previous night that suspicious figures had been seen in the courtyard, so you had decided to patrol the area tonight in hopes of making your next run-in with Sylas your last.
You knew that you would likely not be alone out here tonight; the mageseekers were on high alert as of late, so it was likely that you would have backup nearby if necessary. You had reported your intended patrol route, but hadn’t disclosed much of your previous failure, other than to inform Senior Adept Darnon that Sylas had utilized a partner in your previous encounter. It had felt wrong to not tell him what Sylas had said to you, but something in you had frozen your tongue. You had never hidden anything from the order before, the guilt from that decision on your mind as you walked along the tall columns that lined the plaza.
In the daytime, the plaza was full of life, but it was dark and empty now in the midnight hours, all decent Demacians in bed by now. This was a place of celebration at good times, and a place to rally to in times of war, but right now it just looked abandoned, leaving you feeling like you were walking through an empty city.
This was such a wide open space, so public even at night that it didn’t seem to make much sense for Sylas to be operating around here if he was trying to remain unseen. Unease prickled against your skin as you were unable to make sense of his decisions, but not sure why you were so worried about it. If he was here tonight, you would capture him, and then all of this would be behind you.
It had been just over a week since you had last seen Halia, and you couldn’t help but worry about her. Was she eating enough? Was she crying herself to sleep like she used to back in the orphanage when she missed the parents she didn’t remember? It wasn’t like you were doing much better for her now, seeing her so infrequently that you were lucky she still remembered you. But Halia was the reason you were here, and you intended to keep her at the forefront of your mind to keep your confidence from wavering.
“We must stop meeting like this.”
Spinning around, you caught sight of Sylas as he sauntered out from behind a column, the moonlight illuminating his figure in stripes of silver. He stepped forward into the open area of the plaza, and you stepped backwards in turn. You tried to read his intentions by looking at his face, but you weren’t sure what you were seeing right now in his hard blue eyes.
With little time to plan, as things always seemed to go when you encountered this man, you were forced to think quickly, the temperature around you dropping as ice magic gathered in your palms.
“Well clearly you don’t intend to talk,” he said, looking frustratingly unbothered by your threat of magic.
“To talk…?” you echoed in a hushed whisper. What was his goal here? To confuse you and then get the upper hand in the fight? You wouldn’t allow it, not this time.
Sylas opened his mouth to say something else, but was forced to duck instead when you sent a sharp spike of ice at his chest.
He regarded you like you were a friend, not an enemy, and it enraged you. How could he treat this so lightly? And why did he insist on seeking you out seemingly just to provoke you?
Your anger carried your actions, but this time with a focus that was missing from your last encounter. Sylas was only dodging, not returning your ice with any blows of his own, and you were intent on enlightening him as to why not taking you seriously was a bad decision.
It started with one lucky blast of ice that caught him at the wrist, pinning his arm back against a column by his gauntlet. Taking advantage of your sudden luck, you sent the ice climbing higher still, until he was pinned from wrist to biceps by thick ice. Not wanting to give him a chance to return fire, you quickly iced his other arm to the pillar as well, leaving the fugitive securely bound to the stone behind him.
Panting with exertion, you kept a hand raised, slowly coming to the full realization that you had actually managed to subdue the mage you had been after for almost two weeks now. You kept a wary eye on Sylas, who stared silently back at you, that unreadable expression back on his face.
You were debating what to do next, not having expected to capture him so easily, when he finally spoke up.
“Did you find your answer in the archives?” he asked simply.
You froze, unable to find your voice to answer the question you had hoped he wouldn’t ask. Sylas seemed to find his answer in your silence and let out a sigh that seemed more pained than angry.
“Why is it that this kingdom has such a hold on you?” he asked. “You allow them to use you to no discernable gain for yourself.”
“I am proud to serve my kingdom,” you spoke, the words ringing out hollow in your own ears as you desperately tried to shut down the conversation. “Mages are a danger to Demacia.”
Sylas let out a dark chuckle. “That, at least, you are right about. You are however missing one key piece of information.”
What? Immediately suspecting you were not alone again, your eyes darted around you, looking for an accomplice in hiding, waiting to strike when you least expected it.
“Not out there, snowflake,” Sylas said, sounding amused. “Right here. And if you come a little closer, I might just be willing to share that information with you.”
You narrowed your eyes at the fugitive; you really should be calling for backup, but if this information was in regards to what he had been planning… if you were able to not only capture Sylas, but discover his plan, then the head adept would have no reason to question your loyalty ever again. If this even led to you being able to see Halia more…
You hastily stepped forward, and Sylas raised an eyebrow, amused, as you approached him. Coming to a stop a few feet away from him, you stared warily at the man before you, waiting for him to talk.
“Closer.”
You glared at him, unimpressed. You were already much closer than you wanted to be to him, only your desire to have more time with Halia keeping you reluctantly compliant with his demand. Even with your mask covering your eyes, your stony silence seemed to convey your frustration to him.
“It won’t be long until your friends get here, and then I fear I may not be as… forthcoming.”
With so little time to make your choice, you were forced to forgo further contemplation, instead stepping even closer at Sylas’ request, now so close that you could see the small flecks of gray in his blue eyes. Judging by the smirk on Sylas’ face, you had moved close enough to satisfy his request, but then why wasn’t he holding up his end of the bargain?
“What are you plan–”
At that moment, several things happened far too quickly for you to react properly to.
Before you could react, Sylas darted his head forward, connecting his mouth with yours. You felt the tickle of his stubble against your jaw, and then he backed off as quickly as he had come, leaving you stunned by the sudden kiss, your brain not connecting the mistake you had made until it was too late.
The ice binding his arms shattered with a loud crack, falling uselessly to the floor in chunks at the same time as he surged forward, stolen powers at the ready. In the blink of an eye, spires of ice rose from the ground, quickly encasing you from foot to hip in ice.
Inhaling sharply at the sudden cold, you raised your hands to retaliate, but found no magic rushing to your call. Staring at your hands in horror, you tried again to call the magic that was as easy to you as breathing, but again, no magic answered. For the first time since your time in the orphanage, you were powerless.
How could you have been stupid enough to trust the most wanted man in Demacia to keep to his word? You struggled fruitlessly against the ice once more in desperation before turning your focus back to Sylas, your positions now reversed as he stepped over the broken chunks of ice on the ground to approach you.
You angled yourself away from him as best you could with your lower half frozen to the ground, which seemed to amuse Sylas, who chuckled as he came to a stop before you.
“You have no comprehension of the true power you hold,” he said, raising a hand to your cheek, his cold touch against your skin again reminding you of the easy command he had over your powers.
You shook your head, no words coming to your lips. You had no power here, his words would change nothing. You could never be like him, and you couldn’t just stand here and listen to this. You would make him regret not freezing your hands as well.
Acting before he could stop you, you reached a hand up to grasp at the circular clasp of your cape, pressing down on the hidden button there, which immediately began to let out a high-pitched hum, letting you know that you had activated it correctly. Soon every mageseeker in this section of the city would be converging on your location, and by the look in Sylas’ eyes, both of you knew it.
Sylas let out a sigh, but he didn’t sound angry. He also didn’t bother scoping out the area for the approaching mageseekers, instead staring at you with an intensity in his eyes that made you shiver.
“Think about what you want, snowflake. Then think about if this kingdom will ever give you what you truly want.” It was now that he turned his focus to the approaching threat, turning to walk away from you before thinking better of it for a second, turning his head back to face you. “I’ll ask for your answer when we meet next.”
“No… I… stop!” you cried out, all to no avail as Sylas quickly disappeared into the night.
You were glad your mask covered your eyes as mageseekers began to filter into the plaza, if only to help cover the panic you were currently feeling. Why you? Why was he so interested in you? Why couldn’t he just let you live your structured, miserable life? Why couldn’t he see that there was no escape for you?
The mageseekers paid you no mind beyond a cursory glance, immediately fanning out to search the area for the fugitive mage. It wasn’t until forty minutes later when a senior adept arrived that your presence was acknowledged in any capacity.
It had taken until around the twenty minute mark for your powers to return in full, allowing you to break the ice caging you into chunks just like Sylas had done when he had stolen your powers. You wanted to help with the search for Sylas, but found yourself frozen to the spot, this time with anxiety and fear instead of ice.
High Adept Flisha did not ask for your account of the situation, not give you a task related to the search. Her cold eyes almost seemed to look through you, as if you weren’t even worth speaking to, which was likely not far from what she was thinking right now.
“You will report immediately to Head Adept Crownguard,” she spoke coldly, before leaving to approach a group of mageseekers as you tried not to collapse on the spot.
You had heard those words many times before, but they had never made you feel like this. You had pressed the distress button without thinking of the consequences, so desperate to silence Sylas any way you could, and now you would pay the price. You had failed again, this time in front of an audience, shamefully outsmarted and imprisoned by your own powers. You had never failed like this before, and you knew Lord Crownguard would not be pleased.
Each step towards the mageseeker compound felt heavy, like you were dragging steel balls from your ankles. You would not be seeing Halia any time soon, that was a certainty, but you didn’t think Lord Crownguard was likely to stop at just that.
The mageseeker compound was virtually empty; you could only assume that they had dispatched every available adept to try and right your mistake, though you could hazard a guess as to how that was going. Sylas had proven himself to be a rather slippery man when he wanted to be.
The head adept’s door had never looked so intimidating before, but you approached it all the same. Entering, you were once again met with the impassive face of Eldred Crownguard, though this time you did not have to guess as to what kind of a mood he was in. Taking off your mask before he could demand you to, you stood before the head mageseeker with fear in your heart, desperately hoping that it didn’t show on your face.
“Three times he has escaped you,” Eldred spoke accusingly. “Your flawless record is flawless no more.”
This was not a conversation, and you knew he was not looking for a response from you.
“Your actions have let down your kingdom, and I have called you here to answer for yourself,” he said. “Do you seek to betray this kingdom? Do you intend to see the citizens of Demacia perish in another rune war?”
“No, I would never–”
“Then why is Sylas of Dregbourne still at large!?” he roared, slamming a fist down on his desk.
You froze up at his sudden anger, watching as a heavy statuette fell from his desk to the floor with a crash. Eldred seemed to calm down somewhat after his outburst, but looked no less displeased with you as he looked at you with clear disdain in his eyes.
“I don’t think you understand the reality of your situation,” he said, voice low and threatening. “A mage in our ranks, failing to capture one of her own kind. One could even presume that you were doing this on purpose.”
You gasped, and he continued mercilessly. “I took a chance on you, gave you a life outside the dungeons, let you live as if you were one of us, and how do you think this makes me look? This city functions on my order, and if it were to get out that I cannot keep control of a mage in my ranks, my options would become rather limited.”
You were trying not to shake now, your breaths coming out shallow. You hadn’t meant for this to happen, and you had been trying your best to capture Sylas, but your best had clearly not been good enough for Lord Crownguard.
“I assume I have made myself clear, but I will take a moment now to be abundantly clear; this is your last chance. If you cannot capture Sylas, then I will have no choice but to declare you a traitor and sentence you to death. I will not allow my order to be tainted by your failure.”
You were openly panicking now, unable to hide behind your mask as it laid in your grip. Lord Crownguard had never allowed you to be masked before him, and now it was clear that it wasn’t just for control; you were naked emotionally without your mask, and that was just what he wanted. For you to have nowhere to run or hide from his calculating gaze.
“One more thing,” Eldred spoke coldly. “Make no mistake, fail to capture Sylas and I will have you executed. Try to run and then I will have no choice but to execute your sister in your place. I suggest you think clearly about what side you’re choosing here. Dismissed.”
He had to bark his command at you once more before you could force your feet to move, slipping your mask back on your face the second you stepped out of his office. Before you could close the door behind you, he spoke up one last time.
“Your sister is waiting in the common room. I suggest you take this time to re-find your motivation. It would no doubt be highly damaging for her to lose her dear older sister.”
You closed the door behind you, feeling numb. Even the knowledge that you had an unearned visit with Halia wasn’t enough to bring feeling into your body.
You somehow managed to get yourself to the common room, opening the door to find Halia already waiting there, staring idly at one of the paintings on the wall like you so often did. As soon as she turned and you saw her face, it was like something broke inside you and you rushed forward, pulling her into a tight hug.
Halia let out a whisper of your name, muffled against your shirt, but didn’t resist, eagerly hugging you back even if she didn’t understand your desperation, or the reasons behind it. You two stayed like that for a long moment, not saying anything as your hand stroked her hair.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, voice tinged with fear. “Are we okay? Is something–”
“Everything’s fine,” you lied, still holding her tightly. “I just… missed you. It’s been a long week.”
You were crying now, and you knew she could feel your tears wetting her hair, but Halia said nothing, simply holding onto you. Allowing yourself this brief moment of comfort, you allowed weakness to take over as you reflected on your situation. Halia was so much stronger than you; she endured a life that was even more restrictive than yours, all without complaint. To protect her, to protect this fragile existence the two of you led, you would have to discard all of your weakness. You would have to capture Sylas at any cost; at this point, it was him or Halia, and the choice was an easy one.
As always, the visit with Halia ended way sooner than you would have liked, Halia’s brave face as you parted ways seared into your brain as you walked back to your room. You were well aware that depending on your next performance, that visit may be the last time you ever saw each other. You were desperate not to leave her alone in the world, but that didn’t mean your task would be easy. Sylas was a formidable opponent, and clearly had no intention of being captured. You refused to give in, for Halia’s sake, intending to do whatever you had to in order to bring Sylas in.
The next few days were spent in training, staying in the training area instead of sleeping to ensure you were as ready as possible for your final confrontation with Sylas. You didn’t bother reading the potential sightings briefings; Sylas had proven that he would find you, not the other way around, so all you had to do was wait for the timing to be right.
It wasn’t hard to guess that Eldred was setting you up to fail. Unlike your last encounter, this time there would be no nearby mageseekers to call on for help. You had brought negative attention to the head adept, and now he would only see you back in his good graces after you had taken on the world by yourself.
You could hear the other mageseekers gossip about you, even more than usual. Word had spread that the mageseekers own special exception was on her last chance, and they were all eager to see you fail, to be free from having to associate with a dirty mage within their ranks once and for all. Even if there weren’t orders against doing so, none of them would lift a finger to help you.
The night before your intended day of reckoning, you did your best to get a full night of sleep, but Halia’s face haunted your dreams. Even once you woke up, you were having a hard time shaking the dream image of Halia weeping over your corpse from your mind. You had somehow gotten a full night’s sleep, but felt no more well-rested than your sleepless nights at the training grounds.
Your mageseeker garb felt heavier than usual, like it was weighing you down as you left the barracks with no particular destination in mind. Sylas had seemed so determined to convert you, to find you every time you were looking for him, and so you had no doubt that he would again find you tonight. As you turned onto a well-lit street, intending to head to the more secluded back alleys, you wondered what he had done during the days you had spent holed up in the training grounds. Had he been out here looking for you, or had he given up entirely after days of nothing? No, you quickly dismissed the thought; something within you told you that you would see him tonight, for better or worse.
The late night crowds thinned out the farther into the alleys you went. There wasn’t much in this part of the city, the alleys largely used as shortcuts between the market and the eastern housing district. By this point in the night, this maze of alleyways would be deserted, becoming your own private meeting area with Demacia’s most wanted man. You kept your eyes out as you walked the back alleys, seeing nothing, but ready for a fight whenever it came. At this point, it was just a matter of time.
It was a great relief to you that your powers had returned in full after your last conflict with Sylas, not least of all because it seemed to be a fairly cold night. All the people you had passed on the streets were dressed in layers, your only clue as to if the temperature was getting frigid, as you hadn’t felt the cold in many years, at least not until Sylas had sapped your powers from you long enough to tell you that you did not want to feel that cold again.
The alleys were deathly quiet, which left you with nothing to distract you from your thoughts, which were all too loud right now. Capture Sylas and live or fail and die, those were the only two ways this night could go. The task ahead of you was daunting, but you had no choice. You would capture Sylas, restore Lord Crownguard’s faith in you, and then your life would go back to the way it had been for so long. Soon this moment would be a memory long gone, a lesson never to be repeated.
You were walking towards a forked path in the back alley, but stopped short when a figure emerged from the end of the alleyway, raising a hand in greeting as if you were allies.
Sylas began to casually move towards you, but was forced to leap backwards when you sent several spikes of ice jutting out from the ground directly in front of him.
“Some way to greet an old friend,” he remarked, looking from the spikes to your masked face.
A friend? Was that what he really saw you as? No, you dismissed the possibility as soon as you thought of it. People like you and Sylas had no need for friends; all he was trying to do was get in your head, and you wouldn’t allow it.
You backed up, wanting to put some distance between you and him, not wanting to repeat your previous mistake.
Raising an eyebrow, Sylas seemed to accept that this fight was unavoidable, moving into a fighting stance. You did the same, desperation thrumming under your skin, unable to shake off the stress from the knowledge of just how much was riding on the outcome of this fight.
Sylas struck first, darting forward, chained gauntlets at the ready. You blocked his first strike with a spike of ice that was quickly broken by a slam from his chains.
The next spike of ice was thicker, and when Sylas made to shatter this one as well, you sent ice along the chain and over his gauntlet, freezing his arm in a block of ice.
The weight of the ice offset his balance slightly, but not enough to take him out of the fight. Sylas sent both his chains at you, the frozen one stiffer, but no less dangerous, forcing you to drop to the ground to avoid being hit. You took advantage of the frozen chain, freezing it easily to the wall of the alleyway, which gave you time to move back as Sylas began to tug at the frozen chain in an attempt to free himself.
You raised a hand to send another blast of ice his way, but let out a pained cry as his other chain connected with your side, sending you falling to the ground. Side stinging, you threw a chunk of ice at his face, forcing him to block so you could scramble to your feet. Halia needed you. You couldn’t allow yourself to go down.
Strengthening the ice on the chain, you sent it creeping over his icy arm, the ice reaching his naked torso before he could stop it. Sylas attempted to bash at the ice with his unfrozen gauntlet, but the ice was steadfast, quickly covering him from the neck down while he attempted unsuccessfully to resist.
Soon you stood before a fugitive that was more ice than man, reeling with disbelief that you had actually managed to win. You could live. Halia would be okay. You could put all of this behind you and redeem yourself to the head adept.
“One more secret, snowflake,” Sylas said, sounding completely unfazed by his body being encased in ice.
“I won’t fall for that again,” you replied angrily. “Sylas of Dregbourne, you are under arres–”
“Fear not,” he interrupted. “This isn’t one I need to tell you. In fact, I’d prefer to show you instead.”
What was he…? You confusion turned to alarm as you began to feel… cold. Looking down at your hands, you watched as the silver-blue glow of your ice faded from your skin.
“That’s not possible!” you gasped. “But you’re not even…!”
In a moment, you found history repeating, as you were quickly pinned to the wall by your own ice, a now-free Sylas looming over you, his mouth at your ear to finish your interrupted sentence for you.
“…touching you? I suppose my file neglected to mention that I only need contact with the magic, not the mage themself,” he spoke, grin audible in his voice.
“No,” you breathed, pulling against the ice binding your hands and feet to the wall. “No… no!”
“Tough break, darling,” he said, pulling back to meet your masked eyes. “That kiss was just an added benefit for me.”
His words were barely registering to you over the pounding of your heart and the rush of horror that had taken over your body. You had failed, this time for the last time. It was over. Come tomorrow, you would be dead.
“I take the silence to mean you still aren’t too fond of my offer,” he said, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “Well, then I suppose I’ll be seeing you next time, snowflake.”
“No,” you choked out, shaking your head. There would be no next meeting with him. Your next meeting would be with the executioner.
Sylas hummed in question, turning back to face you. “So determined you’ll never join me?”
“You don’t understand,” you spoke shakily, slumping against the wall. “This was my last chance. I’ll be on the executioner’s block tomorrow.”
Your words seemed to enrage Sylas, who quickly stormed back your way, getting in your face with angry eyes. “You would willingly go back to die? Don’t throw your life away for a kingdom that never gave a damn about you! Come with me and you can be free!”
“I can never be free,” you sobbed. “They have my sister. If I don’t go back, they’ll kill her in my place. Maybe it’s better that I die, then Halia can finally be free…”
Sylas’ face softened at your admission, reaching up to remove your mask, revealing your tear-streaked face to his questioning gaze.
“I should have guessed,” he spoke softly, anger underlying his voice, but this time not directed at you. “Your sister, is she a mage as well?”
“No,” you answered, feeling too vulnerable without your mask to meet his gaze, your eyes cast down to the ground. “I was the freak. They tried to separate us in the orphanage and my powers manifested. This was the only way for me to protect her.”
You weren’t sure why you were so willing to open up to the most dangerous mage in the land, but the words came easily. Maybe it was just that you had never had someone to talk to openly about your problems, someone who didn’t just tolerate your presence while openly despising you.
“Your sister… she’s important enough for you to die for,” Sylas remarked. “But is she important enough to live for?”
“What?” You raised your face to meet his eyes at last and were startled by the determination you found there. “I have no choice, they’ll kill her if I leave this place.”
“Then we’ll make it so they can’t,” he retorted. “I have a plan, but it will require us to trust each other.”
“Why would you trust me?” you asked quietly. “I’ve done nothing to earn your trust.”
“Your magic is pure,” he replied. “Untainted by the evils of this place. Magic like yours deserves to be free, not shackled to a cause that is against everything you are.”
Reaching a hand out, he cupped your cheek, his rough-looking hands surprisingly gentle against your skin. “Do you want to be free?”
“Yes. More than anything,” you answered immediately. “But Halia–”
“…will be fine, if you do exactly what I say. I know how mageseekers think better than I’d like to.”
You laughed humorlessly, mostly to yourself. “I never thought I would be allies with a kingslayer.”
“Another unearned title,” Sylas huffed. “I have slain no kings. He was dead before I arrived.”
“But why–”
Sylas wearily raised an eyebrow. “You should know their lies better than anyone. I was a convenient target to pin the blame on. If you’re a mage in Demacia, they have no trouble spilling your blood.”
The new information stunned you for only a moment, because you realized that he was right. This kingdom used people like you and him, treated your lives like they were theirs to control. You would never have any true happiness, not while you stayed here, and not if you let them put you down like an animal.
“Your sister,” Sylas spoke up. “Is she brave?”
“Yes,” you answered. “Much more than me.”
“Good,” he smirked. “We’ll need her at my execution.”
“Your..!?” you gaped.
“Relax,” he chided gently. “I won’t die. That’s where my trust in you and your sister comes in. But first, you need to make a visit to Eldred Crownguard and tell him exactly what I’m going to tell you…”
The next morning, you found yourself before Head Adept Crownguard, not to surrender yourself for execution, but with a plan.
“I have discovered evidence that Sylas intends to break into the royal library tonight to steal an ancient tome,” you spoke, forcing all nervousness out of your voice. You had to do this perfectly. “I intend to capture him during this attempt and present him to the order for execution.”
The head adept looked annoyed, as if you were wasting his time by being here. It wasn’t hard to guess that he had thought you had come here to turn yourself over for execution, the reality that you would take one more day to die and stop being his problem a mere annoyance to him. He didn’t know it, but if Sylas’ plan worked, then he would be free of you at last, just not the way he was assuming.
“Very well,” Eldred replied. “You have bought yourself one more day. But make no mistake, if it is not Sylas’ head on the executioner’s block tomorrow, then it will be yours.”
“Of course, Lord Crownguard,” you answered, taking a deep breath before addressing the last thing you had to accomplish in this meeting. “If I capture him, I have a request I would like to make.”
You had never made a request of the head adept before, and by the darkening of his eyes, not many had dared ask him for favors before. You had counted yourself among that fearful number until yesterday, but now you had an ally, and that gave you the strength you needed in this moment.
“The request?” Eldred inquired, his tone giving you no hint as to what he intended to do with your answer.
Steeling your nerves, you did your best to appear every bit the devoted mageseeker he thought you were.
“I would like my sister to attend his execution with me,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his imposing gaze. “I want her to lock his neck to the block before they cut off his head.”
If Eldred was surprised by your request, he didn’t show it. “And why should I give you special treatment?”
“I want Halia to see what I do for this kingdom,” you answered, filling your voice with measured strength. “And I want no one to doubt what side I stand on.”
Eldred stared at you, and for that long moment, you began to worry that he was seeing through you, but then he seemed to make his decision. “Very well. If you manage to capture Sylas, I will grant your requests. Do not make me remind you of the consequences of failure.”
“Yes, sir,” you replied with a bow, astounded that you had managed to pull this off.
“Do not disappoint your kingdom,” he added, clearly not wanting you to leave with any confidence. “Dismissed.”
You had no intention of arguing with him, not when this meeting had gone exactly like Sylas had predicted. With a bow, you left the room, unable to relax even a tiny bit until you reached your room.
Sylas’ words had given you confidence, but you were still struck by the absurdity of your current predicament. You had gone from one extreme to the other, but it wasn’t like there was much of a choice. Demacia had given you shelter, but it had never been a home, and never would be. They would treat you like a guard dog, and then put you to death to save face.
You had never questioned the system before, but the chance to escape your gilded cage made you realize how much anger was buried deep under the surface. Halia deserved a better life, deserved to be free, which was something neither of you would ever be afforded here. Thinking of your sister, you felt your nervousness fade, replaced with a quiet determination to do what you had to in order to execute Sylas’ plan perfectly.
That night, you walked toward the royal library, eager to see Sylas again and gain reassurance that this was all really happening. It scared you just how quickly you had decided to put your trust in the fugitive you had previously been chasing, armed only with your trust in his promise to you.
A large part of you wondered why he would risk so much for you and Halia. Mages were all over, and there must have been ones easier to reach than you, and then there was that kiss.
You were too afraid to ask him why he had kissed you, and it was hardly the time, with so much riding on your actions in the next twenty-four hours. Sylas was willing to put his life in your hands, which honestly felt like more trust than someone like you deserved, which made you all the more determined to prove to him that his trust was not misplaced.
The royal library stood tall and proud, Demacian flags hanging beside the large ornate doors, but the majestic architecture wasn’t what caught your attention. In the dark of night, you caught sight of a glint of metal around the side of the building, the end of a chain barely sticking out. Where you would have previously approached cautiously, now you strode forward, eager for some reassurance that you weren’t alone in this plan.
It was an odd feeling, realizing that you had a dangerous fugitive waiting for you, but you weren’t afraid, not of him.
“Ready to break free of your cage?” Sylas greeted you, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning on.
“By putting you in one?” you replied somberly, feeling guilty for how much trouble he was going to for your sake.
“I spent fifteen years in their prison, one more night won’t break me,” he answered.
“I can never repay you for this,” you said, unable to stop yourself.
“Not everything in this world is transactional,” Sylas replied. “I’m doing this because it’s right. After you’re free, you can choose your own path.”
It was almost startling how quickly he had pivoted from his original recruitment plan. Freedom to choose almost seemed like a joke, or something out of a dream, but you were drawn to the promise immediately. So sure of your death, you hadn’t thought about what to do after your and Halia were free. It had always been so far out of your reach that there was no point in even thinking about it, and now that freedom was within your grasp, you had no idea what to do with it.
“Wouldn’t want to keep the order waiting,” he said, brushing a finger gently over the clasp of your cape, too light to activate the help beacon. “But first, I have something for you.”
At his prompting, you held out your hand, palm-up. Sylas reached into a pocket, pulling out a small stone rectangle and depositing it in your hand.
The stone was pure white and almost unassuming, if you didn’t know its true purpose.
“Petricite,” Sylas said. “Absorbs magic like a sponge. One touch of this to my skin and I’ll be able to tap into the stored magic.”
“I’ll make sure Halia follows the plan,” you promised. “I won’t let them kill you.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” he replied with a huff of laughter. “A good little Demacian like you breaking her word? Unthinkable.”
You got the feeling that he was teasing you, but were unsure how to respond. The only person that really treated you like a person was Halia, and you only got to see her every few weeks if you were lucky.
You just smiled awkwardly at him, and he frowned, reaching forward to remove your mask, exposing your full face to him again, but this time you didn’t feel as nervous, strangely captivated by the intense look in his eyes.
“After tomorrow, you’ll be free,” he said softly.
“I thought you wanted me to join your side,” you replied just as quietly.
“I still do,” he said. “But only by your own will. I won’t have you free yourself from this place only to become a servant for my cause.”
You were shocked speechless, feeling like your brain was short-circuiting. He had said so before, but it was still an odd experience for you after living so much of your life under the thumb of the mageseekers that anyone would want you to have any level of control over your own life. It almost felt too good to be true, but even if you didn’t trust Sylas, he was your only choice to save you and Halia.
“You don’t need to make any decisions now,” Sylas said, as if sensing your muddled thoughts. “But I’m afraid we’re running out of time to talk tonight.”
You nodded slowly, painfully aware of just why you were out here tonight. You had no right to be so afraid of imprisonment, not when the man before you was willing to be put back in a cage for your sake, not to mention the execution.
“Are you sure Lord Crownguard will follow through with his promise?” you asked.
Cruelty was a pastime for the head adept, so it wouldn’t surprise you if he decided to revoke his promise to you the second Sylas was back in his grasp.
“He’ll follow through,” Sylas growled. “He’d never throw away the chance to kill me and show you and all mages that you’ll never escape him. A young upstanding daughter of Demacia locking me into the executioner’s block is just an added benefit for him. He probably thinks your request was playing right into his hands.”
You could only hope he was right. Not many people got the better of Eldred Crownguard, and you were currently trying to do so on a level that was unprecedented.
“Now then,” Sylas said, leaning against the wall, arms spread to the sides in anticipation of the ice to come. “We might as well begin my homecoming.”
It was uncomfortably easy for you to slip your mask back on as the mageseekers began to arrive in droves at your signal. Sylas did his part well, glaring at you and the other order members as they surrounded him, his body iced to the wall.
He was doused with liquid petricite before being removed from the wall, an added measure to ensure he did not retain any magic to use against the order. Sylas focussed his attention on resisting the adepts, at least until a large mageseeker delivered a blow to the back of his head and his eyes rolled back into his head, head dropping to his chest.
“Remove the ice now,” a senior adept ordered, and you complied, Sylas’ body falling into the grasp of several mageseekers as soon as the ice that supported his body had vanished.
You didn’t flinch as Sylas’ body was carried past you and off to the mage prison. You owed it to him to stay strong, to pretend to be impassive even as guilt and anger simmered in your chest. If Sylas was willing to put himself in such a bad situation for you, then you had to execute your part perfectly for him in return.
“Return to the barracks immediately,” the same senior adept ordered you and the other mageseekers that still remained in the area. “We expect retaliation from the rebel mages at the execution, so every mageseeker will be required to attend to protect against attacks on our system of justice.”
You wanted so desperately to go along with the adepts escorting Sylas’ body away, but held yourself to your spot, not even looking at him as he was taken away. You couldn’t risk anyone having any perception of you as a sympathizer, and Demacia’s eyes were always watching.
“Thought we’d finally be rid of her,” a nearby mageseeker sneered, and it wasn’t hard for you to guess who they were talking about.
“She’ll mess up again sooner or later,” another one replied. “Mages aren’t meant to be among us. The head adept will come to his senses and realize that soon.”
They didn’t know just how right they were, but you simply turned away from them to walk back to the barracks as you had been ordered to do, keeping your head down in feigned shame, their laughter echoing behind your back.
It was difficult for you to sit in your room that night, unable to act. You couldn’t rescue Sylas yet, and you couldn’t warn Halia of what was to come. She didn’t even know what you actually did for Demacia, how would she suddenly take the news that the most dangerous mage in the kingdom was going to be the one helping you escape?
There was no telling how much time you would even have to talk to Halia alone. If the head adept suspected anything, then he would keep you and Halia on a tight leash, restricting your ability to communicate Halia’s part of the plan to her.
Alone in your room, you wondered what she was doing right now, not to mention Sylas. Had he woken up from unconsciousness? Was he back in his old cell, being taunted and tortured by guards on the eve of his supposed execution?
You were at least confident that he would live to see tomorrow. Lord Crownguard had stressed to you his preference that Sylas be captured alive, not having to say it aloud for you to know that he wanted a live captive for the spectacle it would allow for. A grand gesture to show the citizens of Demacia that they were safe, and the mages of Demacia that they would never be. And as an added benefit, the leader of the rebel mages would be silenced forever.
You slept off and on through the night, waking up feeling restless, head filled with worries about worse-case scenarios. Everything today depended on you and Halia. Sylas would live or die today depending on you and Halia’s actions, the pressure of this moment weighing heavily on you as you tried unsuccessfully to sleep.
Finally giving up on sleep, you sat up in bed, pulling the petricite square out of your bag and staring at it. The petricite was smooth, like it was shaped by a careful hand. Flipping the stone over, you were surprised to find the shape of a snowflake gently etched into the stone.
The sight of the snowflake tugged at you, like you could hear Sylas calling you the nickname, as if he wasn’t currently deep within the mage prison. Was this a reminder to keep you to your word, or a measure taken to calm your nerves before your final task? It was a little hard to believe it was simply a kind gesture, not because you doubted Sylas’ character, but because nobody but Halia had ever done anything kind for you. You knew your role here, and your experience told you that Demacia did not see you as a person deserving of kindness.
Whatever his intentions, you found that the snowflake brought you comfort, like you weren’t alone in this room for this short moment. Checking the time, you found that it was only a few hours now until you were to make your way to the execution with Halia at your side. You still didn’t know how or when you would be brought to her, or if Lord Crownguard would even grant your requests, but you had to be prepared in either case.
Taking the stone in cupped hands, you closed your eyes before calling your powers forth. It was probably better that you did this now, so you would have time to recharge before the execution, as you assumed that Sylas would likely need your help in the escape.
You hadn’t had time to talk specifics with him, but assumed he must have a reliable path out of the city. You doubted that the escape would be a bloodless one, but you would do what you had to in order to save Halia from this life in captivity.
Thinking of your sister, you sent waves of ice magic out from your hands, the stone eagerly absorbing the magic without leaving any trace behind. This magic would protect Halia, would save Sylas, and allow you to leave this place behind.
The petricite accepted your magic without complaint, so you poured your icy magic into it until you started to feel drained. Unclasping your hands from around the petricite stone, you set it down on your bedside table, choosing to lay down for the next hour to recoup your strength.
You were feeling mostly better, at least physically, when you got out of bed. The closer it got to the proposed execution time however, the more anxious you got.
You could hear other mageseekers discussing the upcoming execution as you went to take a bath, their words sounding like they were talking about a party rather than a beheading.
You had just gotten dressed in your mageseeker robes when there was a loud knock on your door, startling you out of your troubled thoughts. Quickly snatching the petricite from your bedside table, you stowed it in your pocket before answering the door to a large mageseeker who took up most of the doorway.
“The high adept has requested you be brought to him,” the man spoke emotionlessly.
“Of course,” you replied in the same practiced tone.
This was earlier than you had been expecting, but you would only have spent the extra time worrying, so it would probably be better to confront the situation early.
Closing the door behind you, you were very aware that if your plans turned out the way you were hoping they would, then you would never see that room ever again. You had lived your whole adult life in that room, but you felt nothing as you left it behind for the last time. Even the thought of leaving Halia’s drawings behind stirred no feelings in your chest. This place had never truly been a home to you, and you would not miss it.
You followed the unfamiliar mageseeker to the hallway outside the head adept’s office, the mageseeker stopping before the door to knock. Upon getting approval to enter, the door was opened for you to enter, the mageseeker who escorted you remaining outside the door. Upon entering, you spotted several figures in the room.
In his usual chair was Eldred Crownguard, exuding his usual air of superiority. Flanking his desk were two mageseekers, ones you recognized as senior adepts who were particularly unpleasant in their methods of apprehending mages. Clearly Eldred still wasn’t willing to extend much trust your way, if he had chosen to have them along for today.
It was the last figure, however, that drew most of your attention. Halia’s head turned towards the door from her seat in front of the head adept’s desk, her eyes widening at your appearance.
You noticed immediately how tense she looked, which was understandable. To your best knowledge, she had never had the displeasure of Eldred’s company, and he was certainly an intimidating presence. As you quickly learned however, that was not the only reason for her current discomfort.
“Ah, you’ve arrived at last,” Eldred greeted you with a suspiciously friendly tone. “We were having such an informative discussion. For someone who is so proud of her work for this kingdom, I was rather surprised to learn that your sister was unaware of the full nature of your work for the order.”
You went stiff, eyes shifting from Halia’s nervous face to meet Eldred’s imperious stare. You had hoped to be the one to tell Halia the truth, but Lord Crownguard had instead taken matters into his own hands. How much he had told her, you had no idea, but you had no choice but to proceed with the plan, hoping that Halia would still be cooperative, even after your half-truths had been laid bare. You had been hoping for a moment alone with her, but it looked like Eldred intended to make that impossible.
“It is a great honor to lock a traitor to Demacia’s neck to the executioner’s block,” Eldred spoke, each word clearly making Halia more and more uncomfortable. “Much less our most wanted terrorist. The prison wardens quite enjoyed welcoming him back to his cell last night.”
He was looking at Halia, but you knew that his words were meant for you. He wanted to test your reactions, to see if you were bothered by the implication of what his men had done to Sylas.
You thought of Halia, free and happy, and used that strength to keep your face impassive. Lord Crownguard watched your face through the corner of his eye, and seemed to be smugly satisfied with what he saw there.
“I appreciate you allowing my sister the honor to serve her kingdom,” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie. “I had hoped this would encourage her to pursue the same path as I have.”
You could feel Halia look at you in shock, never having seen this side of you before. You hoped that she didn’t see you as a monster now, volunteering her to help with an execution when she hadn’t even been aware of your true job before, but you would worry about that when you were out of the city.
“The kingdom would certainly welcome her appointment to the order, should she display such a show of bravery. Not many would willingly approach such a violent mass-murderer,” Eldred added, clearly trying to unnerve Halia. “Such a brave girl would be the perfect choice to seal Sylas’ fate. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The question was directed at Halia, and you knew to stay quiet, afraid to risk the plan by speaking up on her behalf.
“Yes, sir,” came Halia’s response, her quiet voice surprisingly strong.
Eldred’s face didn’t change, but you could feel a sense of annoyance radiating from him. He was clearly frustrated at being unable to break Halia, which filled you with pride for your sister, who went along with your plan without knowing that there was a plan.
“The execution will begin soon,” Eldred announced, shifting subjects. “We mustn’t keep the kingdom waiting for their most-hated enemy to die.”
You and Halia walked silently side by side, following the head adept. As you walked towards the city square, more and more mageseekers joined your ranks until you were surrounded on all sides. Eldred Crownguard was certainly paranoid, though it wasn’t as if that paranoia was unfounded; today, you would free yourself at last of him and this order.
Given Eldred had bigger priorities right now, you took advantage of the situation by taking Halia’s hand, walking as close to her as possible. You kept quiet, just gripping each other’s hands, at least until you were stopped beside the execution stage while the head adept began to give orders to the large group of mageseekers.
“We don’t have much time,” you whispered, too quiet for anyone but Halia to hear. “I’ll explain everything after, but I need you to trust me.”
“I trust you,” she whispered back, staring forward at the crowd of dispersing mageseekers.
“I’m going to give you a stone,” you said. “When you lock the collar, I need you to touch the stone to Sylas’ skin.”
It was a few seconds of silence before Halia whispered her reply. “We’re going to free him?”
“He’s going to free us,” you answered, reaching into your pocket to take hold of the stone, before offering her that same hand, the stone cupped between your entwined hands as Eldred turned his attention back to you at last.
“The crowds have been let in, sir,” a nearby mageseeker reported.
“Have our own and the military checking every person. We cannot allow any unexpected visitors to enter,” Eldred hissed, and the adept quickly left to carry out the order.
“Report any suspicious activity to me immediately,” Eldred ordered several remaining mageseekers, who then took up positions on the outskirts of the crowd, leaving only a few still by you.
Following Eldred’s lead, you made your way to the side of the stage as people began to flood into the square. You had heard about the mass-casualties at the last attempt at executing Sylas, so the amount of people entering the square stunned you. The people of Demacia were clearly more bloodthirsty then you had realized.
The crowd was in a frenzy as Sylas was brought out, his crimes against Demacia read out loud by a high adept as soldiers forced him to his knees in front of the executioner’s block.
Sylas looked considerably more roughed-up than he had last night, bruises and cuts littering his exposed skin, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable. He made a show of resisting the soldiers, but was held down, neck pressed into the metal collar as the crowd cheered. Finally, the high adept finished reciting the list of crimes, and then looked in your direction, or more specifically Halia’s.
“We have selected an upstanding young Demacian citizen, one with hopes of joining our ranks herself, to lock the collar of Sylas of Dregbourne,” the high adept announced to cheers from the rapid onlookers. “May her courage against evil inspire us all.”
It was time. Now it would be up to Halia to put the last part of the plan into place.
You let go of her hand at last, the petricite stone transferring from your hand to hers.
Halia strode forward, head held high, hands balled into fists at her side to disguise what she carried with her. You watched, feeling frozen as your sister walked to the stage alone, cheered on by the crowds that were eager for blood.
She was stiff but resolute as she mounted the stage, coming to a stop before Sylas, who was being held down by four soldiers keeping him tightly in place. You watched as she leaned down, heart beating loudly in your ears, knowing you had to keep your cool, but terrified of what could happen in the next moment.
At the high adept’s nod, Halia reached down, clicking the metal collar shut in one quick movement before stepping back. The moment was over in the blink of an eye, too quick for you to see if Halia had followed through with the plan or not. Your only hope was that if you couldn’t tell that anything was amiss, then neither could the head adept and the other mageseekers.
Halia turned to return to you, and was halfway back to you when the masked executioner raised his sword. It was then that you were given your only warning of what was to come; the corner of Sylas’ mouth raising into a smirk.
“Halia!” you shouted, breaking away from Lord Crownguard’s side, which seemed to confuse the head adept, at least until the unthinkable happened.
At once, there was an explosion of metal as Sylas shattered the collar that bound him into pieces, the shards flying in all directions, forcing the men that held him down to let go in order to protect their eyes. Halia was a good distance away from the impact, but you still threw up a wall of ice behind her to catch any stray shrapnel before it hit her.
You heard Eldred’s angry shout behind you, but ignored him to run to Halia, who met you halfway, running into your arms.
“Stay close to me, Hali,” you spoke quickly, turning to send some spikes of ice at the head adept and his most vicious mageseekers, hoping to dissuade them from coming after you as you went to make your way to the stage.
The crowd was in a terrified uproar as Sylas freed himself from the iron balls at the end of his chains and was now using them to whip his captors away from him. Mageseekers were attempting to storm the stage in force, but the frenzied crowd was making their approach nearly impossible as they trampled over each other in an attempt to escape the square.
You watched as Sylas sent two soldiers flying off the stage with one swipe of his chain, following it up with thick ice encasing their heads, pinning them to the ground. His attacks were quick and brutal, but not quick enough to notice a mageseeker approaching him from behind, liquid petricite at the ready. With no time to warn him, you sent a spike of ice through both of the man’s legs, sending him falling backwards, the petricite vial rolling uselessly out of his grip as he writhed in pain on the ground. You expected to feel bad, causing an injury to one of your order, but you didn’t, and anyways, after this act, they were no longer your order.
Sylas grinned as you and Halia joined him on the stage. “Ready to leave this place behind?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but Halia spoke first. “Yes!”
Sylas let out an appreciative huff of laughter before turning his sharp blue eyes to yours. “Then we fight our way out.”
Before you could react, Sylas grabbed your hand, tugging you to him so he could kiss you fast and hard, pulling away as you felt the familiar tug on your magic.
“What…” you breathed in shock, but he was already turning away, sending a large chunk of ice hurtling at a group of mageseekers who were attempting to storm the stage, easily knocking them back.
Turning your attention to the fight, you dismissed your sudden thoughts; he probably just needed to borrow more magic. And anyway, you had bigger problems right now than a kiss.
Sylas seemed to be favoring the left side of the stage, and you backed him up, keeping Halia close to you. Sylas rained shards of ice on the crowd, causing them to flee towards the exits and creating a path for you.
Jumping down from the stage, you and Halia followed after Sylas as he ran towards one of the side exits. The exit was blocked by several guards, but they were no match for Sylas’ might, one harsh swipe of his chains flinging them to the side. You raised a hand, covering the soldiers in a thick dome of ice to prevent them from following after you.
Sylas dashed towards the open exit, creating structures of ice to dissuade your pursuers. You were about to join him, Halia just ahead of you, when you felt a harsh tug on your cape from behind, the pull hard enough to send you falling onto your back.
Head stinging with pain from the impact with the ground, you looked up to see one of Eldred’s cruel mageseekers above you, his foot placed on your neck to hold you down. Struggling to breath, you stared up at his hateful, angry face as he sneered at you, looking down at you like you were a bug he was about to crush.
“It was a mistake to let you live,” he snarled, pressing his foot harder into your neck as you tried desperately to pry him off. “You’re going to die, and then I’ll kill that little bitch you call a sis–”
His words were cut off by a horrible gurgling sound, the pressure on your neck loosening at last. Shoving at his boot, you were surprised when the pressure lessened entirely as the mageseeker fell backwards to the ground, laying motionless.
Scrambling to your feet, you looked over at the man to see him laying in a pool of his own blood, a wide spike of ice impaled into his neck. The one eye of his you could see was unmoving, pointed blankly to the sky. He was dead at your feet, and all you felt was relief.
Turning to thank Sylas, you were stunned to see Halia ten feet behind you, raised hand in your direction glowing silver-blue.
“Halia, you’re…”
She smiled, and the glow faded from her hand. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
You returned her smile, rushing up to pull her into a short hug. “You should have told me, but I’m so proud of you, Hali. You saved me.”
“We can talk later,” she replied, clearly happy for the praise. “We need to get out of here.”
Still half-stunned from the revelation that your sister was just like you, you and Halia ran after Sylas, sending harsh blasts of ice at anyone foolish enough to pursue you. Running out of the side exit, you covered the floor behind you in ice, hoping to make the floor icy enough to complicate things for your pursuers.
Sylas waited for you and Halia to catch up before taking off towards an alleyway, you and Halia creating a tall wall of ice to block the way after you before following. The winding alleyways confused you, but Sylas seemed to know exactly where he was going, your path leading you through crowds and down to a sewer room, the bars over the passage at the back spaced just wide enough apart that you were able to slip through them and into the sewer tunnel.
After all of you were through, you set off into the dark, Sylas taking the lead. Soon you couldn’t hear the crowds or anyone after you, the only sounds that were audible now being the sloshing of the sewer water as you walked through it.
“Where does this sewer end?” Halia asked, her voice echoing across the sewer walls.
“Far away from the city,” Sylas answered. “To somewhere where our kind is accepted.”
His words reminded you. “Halia, I’m so sorry I never told you what I do. And that I never noticed that you were… like me.”
“Well, I never told you,” she countered cheekily. “And they would have separated us again if they knew.”
You couldn’t deny that. “How long have you known you had powers?”
“A few months,” she answered shyly. “I practiced in my room at night so they wouldn’t find out.”
“You’ll have all the time you want to practice soon,” Sylas promised. “You’re not under their control anymore.”
Your walk through the tunnel was long, your boots soggy as you made your way through the calf-deep water. Just when you were wondering if the darkness would ever end, a patch of light appeared in the distance, slowly growing larger until you reached a pile of rocks that led up to a rough triangle of light.
Climbing out of the tunnel, you found yourself in some shallow water, in the midst of a forest. You had been all over Demacia in your work as a mageseeker, but this quiet forest, colored with freedom, was somehow the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.
“The settlement is this way,” Sylas said, heading towards a thick brush.
You and Halia shared a surprised look, but quickly followed behind him as he cleared the way. You had done a pretty good job stopping the mageseekers from following you, but you weren’t willing to stay here and see if they had managed to follow the sewer route here.
Eventually, you came to reach a tall rock formation, one that was so perfectly-shaped that you began to have doubts that it was naturally-occurring. Your suspicions were quickly confirmed as Sylas made his way over to a spot off to the left, stopping in front of a section of rock that was unnaturally shiny.
“A precaution to ensure only mages can get in,” he explained. “The petricite opens the door when it absorbs magic.”
Halia seemed mystified by the design of the hidden door, Sylas stepping aside so she could approach the section of petricite grafted into the wall. Reaching a hand up, she ran it along the stone, sending magic from her touch into the stone, which reacted as soon as it absorbed the magic.
You watched with awe as the rock began to recede a few feet back before moving to the side, exposing an open doorway in the rock. You stood still, in awe of the mechanism, but Halia had no such reservations, eagerly rushing through the doorway and down the exposed stone path.
“Halia!” you cried out, nervous about letting her out of your sight.
“She’ll be fine,” Sylas reassured you as you both watched Halia head down the path and out of sight. “This is the safest place for a kid like her.”
His words clicked things into place for you for the first time; you were really free. This was all you had ever wanted for you and Halia, ever since that day in the orphanage when they tried to separate you.
You turned to look at Sylas, at the cuts and bruises he had sustained from his night in the mage prison, all for you and Halia.
“I’m sorry,” you spoke miserably, running your fingers gently along a large bruise on his upper arm.
“Don’t apologize,” he replied. “Not for anything. Don’t apologize for not wanting to live your life in their cage.”
“A week ago, I thought that place would be my whole life,” you spoke, following Sylas through the entrance before it could close. “I don’t know what my life is now.”
“You have time to figure that out,” Sylas answered. “While Demacia remains closed to us, we have this place where mages are not persecuted for being what they are.”
As he spoke, you followed the stone path around a corner, and then you laid eyes on the mage settlement.
It looked very similar to villages you had seen before, but you were stunned by the casual use of magic all around. A man used purple sigils to gently lift a laughing child in the air; a nearby woman used air magic to dry some clothing; an old woman sat before a teenager, healing a cut on his leg. This place was a shining beacon of all the good magic could do, and yet Demacia chose to hunt you down like animals instead. And before you left, you had been part of that system, which sickened you now.
You quickly spotted Halia talking with a group of children who were playing with a ball. The sight melted your heart; Halia had never had friends, never had anyone her age to talk to, but here, that would all be possible.
“Thank you,” you spoke reverently to Sylas. “You saved us. There’s nothing I could ever do–”
“That again?” Sylas grinned. “I was doing what was right. You don’t owe me anything.”
He could say that all he wanted, but it was hard to stop feeling indebted to the man that had broke you out of your cage, a feat you hadn’t thought was possible. You had come here with nothing more than the clothes on your back, but you felt that you possessed something way more precious. You were free to do what you wanted for the first time in your life, and you were starting to have an idea of what you wanted to do with your newfound freedom.
“Injured yourself again, Sylas?”
Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the old woman approach you, looking over Sylas’ injuries with a critical eye.
“I’ve come back from worse, Matilde,” he answered, not resisting as the old woman began to heal his wounds.
“Yes, I remember the stress you’ve caused me very well,” she replied. “But I see you’ve brought us some unusual guests this time.”
You froze up, realizing you were still in your mageseeker uniform, hoping you hadn’t spoiled your welcome entirely.
Noticing your sudden panic, Matilde waved off your concerns with a kind smile. “I meant nothing bad by it, dear. Given Sylas brought you here, I presume you’re one of our kind. It must have been hard, escaping that place.”
“I…” You weren’t sure what to say in the face of her kind demeanor. “I am a mage. Me and my sister were trapped there for years.”
“Ah, I thought there was a new one,” she replied, glancing back at the group of kids, Halia now joining in on their game. “She’s fitting in well already.”
Her words eased some of the burden you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Watching Halia interact with kids her own age gave you the hope that maybe this place was just what you both needed. That only left one thing… you needed to tell Sylas of your newly-made decision.
New residents of the village were a surprisingly big deal, and you were unable to find any time to talk to Sylas for most of the day. Matilde had insisted on taking you on a thoroughly overwhelming tour for someone who had lived for so long in the same unchanging world. You were also startled by the people here, and just how friendly they were to a perfect stranger, especially one like you that was dressed in the uniform of their enemy.
Unlike you, Halia seemed to take to the village like a fish to water, making fast friends with the other children. Your nerves flared when she was out of your sight, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to refuse her request to spend the night at the home of one of her new friends. Halia had lived her life being denied everything, and you refused to continue that trend now that she was free.
Matilde had excused herself to attend to a cut hand that had been reported to her, so without Halia, you found yourself standing alone by a small river, staring up at the same night sky that somehow seemed so much more beautiful now.
As you stood there, you became aware of footsteps in the grass from behind, turning your head to see Sylas, now minus gauntlets. He said nothing, stopping next to you to look at the same sky.
“I feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and be back there,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the stars.
“If you go back, it won’t be as their slave or their prisoner,” he replied. “Everyone here knows how you feel, and they’ll fight to the death to keep this place safe for all mages.”
“I’ve been thinking,” you spoke, turning to face him. “About what you said before. I want to make up for what I’ve done to our own kind.”
“Nobody blames you for doing what you had to in order to survive,” he replied. “The ones to blame are the Demacian bastards that treat us like a disease. The stain on Demacia will never be lifted until we take the kingdom back by force.”
“I know,” you agreed. “And I want to help. I want Demacia to be a place where people like us are treated like people. I want to fight with you.”
Sylas’ mouth lifted into a smirk. “I was hoping you would say that. I didn’t want to let you go so easily.”
Sylas raised a hand, placing it on the side of your head and using it to pull your face towards his own. A tremor of fear ran down your back; was someone attacking the village?
Sylas noticed the panic on your face and pulled back before your lips could meet.
“Are they here?” you whispered hurriedly. You were expecting an affirmative answer, but Sylas just looked confused, which gave you pause. “The mageseekers… weren’t you about to borrow my magic, like back in the square?”
Sylas stared at you for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before bursting into loud laughter. Frowning, you watched as Sylas slowly regained his composure, unsure of what you had done to make him laugh.
Sylas wrapped an arm around your back, pulling your body to his, your wide eyes reflected in his own, your faces inches apart.
“You thought the only reason I kissed you was to take your powers?” he asked, and you nodded, unsure if you would be able to find words if you tried.
But if that wasn’t the reason, then why–
Sylas didn’t seem interested in talking, if the way he was kissing you right now was any indication. You waited for the familiar tug on your magic, for some explanation that would make sense to you, but all you felt was a warmth in your chest, your breath coming out in pants when he finally pulled back.
“You hadn’t considered that maybe I kissed you because I wanted you?” he murmured.
You inhaled sharply, face burning, and might have stumbled over in shock if it hadn’t been for Sylas’ strong arm still around you.
“But you’re… but I’m a…” you stumbled over your words.
“You’re not a mageseeker anymore,” he countered. “And I used to be one as well. You’re more than the chains they bound you with. When I saw your eyes for the first time, I knew you were like me.”
Your eyes went to his chest, too shy to look him in the eyes. “I never thought there was a way out of there. I just thought you were trying to corrupt me, like the high adepts kept telling me. They said you were a danger.”
Sylas chuckled. “They’re right, but not to you. They would say whatever they could to scare you and maintain their fragile power. It seems they’ve learned very little since I was in the order.”
You couldn’t dent that. The mageseekers clearly suffered from overconfidence, if earlier today was any indication. They had let not one but two execution attempts go awry; you were sure that the leaders in the order were furious, the order publically embarrassed by their second failure on a grand scale.
“They made a mistake, not seeing your true value,” he added, tilting your chin up to make your eyes meet his at last. “And I intend to make them regret it.”
“If there are kids out there like Halia, living in fear…” The thought disgusted you. “I want to do something about it.”
“Tomorrow,” Sylas promised, leaning down again to kiss you again. “For tonight, I have a more pressing matter to attend to.”
The matter he was concerned about, however, seemed to be of an entirely different nature.
Your hands scrambled for purchase against his bare chest as Sylas kissed you, thoroughly overwhelming you with his tongue. You had barely gotten inside his home when he had struck, cornering you against the wall so he could kiss you breathless.
Your clothes began to feel like too much against his hot skin, and Sylas was quick to help with your problem. Unclasping your cape, Sylas let it drop to the floor, every piece of your uniform discarded after feeling like a further part of you was being freed from the grip of the order.
When you were left in just your innermost layer, you were picked up, easily scooped up into Sylas’ arms before being carried to the bed.
“You are more enchanting than you know,” he breathed against your lips, your arms around his neck keeping him close. “The second I felt your magic, I knew you were too good for that place.”
His words were flustering you almost as much as his mouth, and he was far from done. Hooking a finger under your grey order-issued underwear, Sylas pulled them off your legs, tossing them out of sight before taking up a position between your legs, shifting your legs to either side of his head.
You stared at him in bewilderment, but fell back against the simple bed with a shuddered cry as he sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine with his mouth. Clearly liking your response, Sylas took hold of your thighs, pulling your pussy flush to his mouth, your eyes shutting tightly, nails digging into your palms in response.
“You can be as loud as you want now,” he spoke lowly, replacing his mouth with his thumb against your clit. You opened your eyes to see Sylas looking down at you with dark, wanting eyes, eagerly taking in all of your reactions.
You had never felt anything like this before, and you couldn’t get enough of it. There had been boys you had noticed before, back in the orphanage, but you had never approached them. You had lived a life without even a friend, and you were eager to take your life back, to take everything Sylas wanted to give you and feel like your like was truly yours again.
Reaching out to him, you sat up, meeting him halfway so you could kiss him again. Rolling onto your side on the bed, you began to wonder if this was when you could finally get the better of Sylas. He had saved you, but he had also gotten systematically under your skin, and you found yourself wanting to have him feel some of that frustration himself.
Taking one of his wrists, you raised it to the wall behind the bed, doing your best to distract him with your own tongue. When his fingers hit the stone wall, you quickly created a cuff of ice, binding that wrist to the wall.
Sylas pulled back from the kiss when he felt the cold ice on his wrist, narrowing his eyes at you with an amused smirk. Refusing to back down or shy away, you lifted his other arm, icing it to the wall as well by his wrist. Offering no resistance, Sylas’ back rested against the wall, his arms iced to the wall above his head. Sylas didn’t seem upset, if the lust in his eyes and the tent in his pants were any indication.
“This feels familiar,” Sylas remarked, locks of his dark hair hanging over one of his eyes. He didn’t bother attempting to fix his mussed hair, his attention entirely on you. “Even back then, I appreciated how pleasant it was to be your prisoner.”
Under his close gaze, you reached down to take hold of his belt, gently unclasping it, letting the two halves fall to the sides of his thighs. Sylas didn’t move, but his thighs seemed tense as you reached down to unzip his pants. Pulling his pants down over his thighs, you realized the reason for the tension in his muscles as his cock eagerly sprang out from his tight pants.
The lack of underwear surprised you, but not enough to take you out of the moment. Letting go of his pants, you reached out to take hold of his cock, running a thumb over the tip, a barely-audible groan your reward.
Sylas finished your abandoned job, kicking his pants off his legs and onto the floor, his body now exposed in its entirety to you. With his pants out of the way, you were free to sit in his lap, hand slowly moving along his shaft, which seemed to quickly evaporate his patience.
Leaning forward, he took the edge of your bra with his teeth, pulling it back slightly before releasing it, letting it snap back against your skin. “Don’t you think it’s about time this came off?”
With a small smile, you obliged him, removing your bra and leaving you both on completely even footing clothing-wise. “Better?”
You felt wanton pride swell in your chest as you watched Sylas’ eyes take in your bare breasts, his arms twitching with the desire to touch, the ice binding his wrists holding fast. As you looked down at the man who had bested the toughest mageseekers you knew, had outsmarted them not once but twice, you felt desire burn inside you, a need to see this invincible man come apart underneath you. You wanted so badly to see what he looked like, what he sounded like when you pushed him over the edge, and you were ready to do whatever you had to in order to make that happen.
Taking a firmer hold of his cock, you began to stroke him from base to tip, a groan from the man beneath you telling you that you were off to a good start. Meeting Sylas’ heedy eyes, you began to move your hand faster, feeling a jolt of satisfaction as you felt Sylas’ leg tense up under you, his breath increasingly shallow the longer you kept up the motion for.
“Stop,” he grunted at last, cock throbbing under your touch. “Not yet… not until I’m inside you.”
You were more than happy to oblige, feeling like you were running out of patience yourself. You wanted him, wanted this experience you had never dreamed of having, and you were more than ready to make it happen.
Sylas kept his legs together, allowing you to easily straddle his hips, lifting yourself up, hovering over his cock for a short moment before you couldn’t take the wait any longer and began to slowly lower yourself down. You slowly took him in, the intrusion of his cock strange but not unwelcome, allowing you to take him more and more until your hips were flush with his own, Sylas letting out a deep groan as he bottomed out inside you.
With Sylas’ hands bound, most of the work was left to you, which you happily undertook. Placing your hands on the bed beside either side of his hips, you slowly began to lift yourself up, relishing in Sylas’ sharp intake of breath as you moved back down, his cock hitting back inside you in a way that made you shudder with pleasure.
Sylas was not content to just lay beneath you, quickly moving his hips along with yours, the combination of both of your efforts only deepening the sparks of pleasure you were feeling. Adjusting his position suddenly, you found yourself falling forward, catching yourself with a hand on his chest, your faces close together. As if this was what he had intended, Sylas took the opportunity to lock lips with you again, his hips working into yours even as you found your own pace stuttering, his tongue continuing to distract you.
The new angle had his cock reaching deeper inside you, and you did your best to keep up with him, feeling Sylas’ groans against your mouth. As you got closer to your own peak, you felt your strength drain from you, finding it harder to keep going with your mind so hazy with pleasure.
Sylas stilled for a moment, and then a crack rang out in the room, the ice binding Sylas’ hands breaking apart and freeing him at his command.
You let out a surprised yelp as you were grabbed around the waist and flipped onto your back, all without his cock slipping out of you. Sylas seemed eager for the chance to take control, his mouth on your breasts before you could blink, restarting his pace, the combination of sensations making you cry out, especially when he began to work a finger against your clit.
“Right there,” he groaned against your breast as his cock hit so deep inside you that you jolted with the sudden spike of feeling. “Does that feel good for you?”
“Yes,” you gasped out as he pulled back, only to hit that spot again, your words turning into a moan of his name as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
Sylas moved his mouth to your neck, your climax hitting you hard as he kissed at your neck, unable to hold himself back, thrusting hard and fast until he followed you over the edge, holding himself above you as you gazed at him with hazy eyes, chest rapidly rising and falling.
Coming down from your respective highs, you gazed at each other, mouths meeting in the middle for another kiss.
It was almost unbelievable to be free at last. Waking up tomorrow, you would start the day in full charge of your own life for the first time ever, and with Sylas by your side, you would fight until Demacia was free for all mages. But for now, you intended to make the most of your first night with Sylas, which was to be far from over.
#reader insert#league of legends#smut#xreader#league of legends x reader#lol x reader#league of legends sylas#sylas#sylas x reader
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Headcanons of what's like to date C1! Sylas, Iwai, and Zenkichi?
What It’s Like to Date Them
Fandom: Critical Role // Persona 5
Characters: Sylas Briarwood, Munehisa Iwai, Zenkichi Hasegawa
Type of Request: Headcanons
Notes: For a second I was really confused that you meant all of them from Campaign 1 xD
Critical Role
Sylas
Dating Sylas is rather complicated. Don’t get me wrong, he loves you and for the remainder of his unlife, he’ll love and cherish you. But he is a vampire and he’s done many, many questionable things.
Would love to go on moonlit strolls with you through Whitestone’s desolate gardens.
Or just go on a late night carriage ride through the Parchwood, promising you he’d always keep you safe as the creatures of the forest howl.
Things do get kind of complicated because he’s only a vampire due to Delilah’s intervention and so there’s a connection between those two there. Delilah wouldn’t ruin your relationship (honestly she ends up flirting with you a bit too), but there is pretty present in both of your lives.
Persona 5
Iwai
Keeps you away from his shop as often as possible. He just has some questionable people come in (also cops) and he doesn’t want you to have to deal with that.
Honestly doesn’t know how he ended up dating you considering his background and the fact that it still comes up now and then and he doesn’t want you to get hurt because of it. So he might be distant now and then because he’s in his thoughts.
There have been times when he’s on a date with you and notices Akira and Kaoru spying on the two of you. He definitely gives them a talking to after but tries to seem normal to you.
I see Iwai as unexpectedly romantic. Like he acts like he doesn’t care about a lot of stuff, but now and then he sends you a bouquet of flowers or has put some money aside to buy you some trinket he saw you eyeing on a while shopping.
Zenkichi
He can be a bit scatterbrained at times where he’ll make plans to go see some school thing for Akane and then forget and ask you on a date that same day. The date ends up going to support Akane.
Many dates do end up eating at his house with Akane trying to make herself sparse (but also leaving some post it notes around the house with dating advice for Zenkichi).
Probably a bit awkward at times because he hasn’t dated in so long. The last time was Akane’s mother and he was bad then too.
So he’ll end up stumbling and then getting embarrassed that he stumbled over something. Will pout if you start teasing him before he teases you back.
#critical role x reader#persona 5 x reader#sylas briarwood x reader#sylas x reader#munehisa iwai x reader#iwai x reader#zenkichi hasegawa x reader#zenkichi x reader
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Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: F/F, F/M, Multi
Fandom: League of Legends
Relationships: Darius/Reader, Jericho Swain/Reader, Braum/Reader, Samira/Reader, Sheida Kayn/Reader, Sett/Reader, Zed/Reader, Sylas/Reader, Vladimir/Reader, Malcom Graves/Reader, Draven/Reader, Khada Jhin/Reader
Characters: Darius, Jericho Swain, Braum, Samira, Sheida Kayn, Sett, Zed, Sylas, Vladimir, Malcom Graves, Draven, Khada Jhin
Aditional Tags: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Plot what Plot/Porn without Plot, Smut, Shameless Smut, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, NSFW, Murder, Fetish, Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Contain Spoilers, Explicit Language, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Stair Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Fingering, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Blow Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Breathplay, Multiple Orgasms, Hair-pulling, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Nipple Piercings, Barebacking, Internal Cumshots, Cum-Dump, Come Swallowing, BDSM, Cowgirl Position, Spanking, Size Kink, Spit As Lube, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Impact Play, Dirty Talk, Biting, Exhibitionism, Inappropriate Use of A Demon Arm, Large Cock, Creampie, Overstimulation, Sensation Play, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Sadism, Masochism, Threesome, Mastrubation, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Double Penetration, Breeding Kink, Edgeplay, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Come Inflation, Choking
Language: English
Status:
Published: 2022-01-12
Updated: 2022-09-19
Words: 13686
Chapters 6/12
SUMMARY
Once in a while the Council will decide they want a new Champion. A new shiny thing to dangle before the enemies eyes. You are one of the chosen to battle in the Arena. A battle to the death, which will be followed by the Arena Ball.
Surprise, surprise, you're the shiniest of them all.
#request#requests are open#ao3#ao3 link#ao3 author#ao3fic#ao3feed#ao3 fanfic#ao3 tags#female reader#x reader#braum x reader#darius x reader#samira x reader#jericho swain x reader#kayn x reader#sett x reader#zed x reader#sylas x reader#vladimir x reader#graves x reader#draven x reader#jhin x reader#smut fic#smut#bd/sm kink#bd/sm blog#ao3 writer#ao3 stuff#ao3 reader
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⊱┈──── ✦ ───── ✦ ────┈⊰
𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪!
𝘈𝘴 𝘢 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.
𝘈𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭. (𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰)
𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤/𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 (𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴: 𝘕𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵).
(𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦).
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴/𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯/𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴:
𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:
𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬
𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬
𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐉𝐡𝐢𝐧
𝐊𝐚𝐲𝐧
𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐧
𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭
𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐧
𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐬
𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧
𝐙𝐞𝐝
𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:
𝐀𝐡𝐫𝐢
𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢
𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧
𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚
𝐅𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐚
𝐈𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚
𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱
𝐊𝐚𝐢'𝐒𝐚
𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞
𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚
𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭:
𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨
𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨
𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦
𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐨
𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜
𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚
𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞
𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚
𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨
𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢
𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭:
𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚
𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐧
𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮
𝐘𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨
𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞
𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐮
𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥:
𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲
𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫
𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝
𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥:
𝐀𝐝𝐚 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐠
𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦
𝐉𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦... 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 :) (𝘰𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴/𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳...)
#league of legends#league of legends x reader#headcanon#fanfic#aphelios#draven lol#sett league of legends#jhin league of legends#character x reader#shieda kayn#zed league of legends#shen league of legends#talon league of legends#sylas league of legends#ahri#akali league of legends#samira lol#diana league of legends#irelia league of legends#genshin impact#genshin imagines#alhaitham#cyno#neuvilette x reader#neuvilette genshin#zhongli#childe tartagalia#genshin diluc#kamisato ayato#resident evil
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I started a little Sylas Briarwood x Reader fanfiction for @crazedcoffeecup This is only the first part, leading up to a thrilling event. I hope you like it and stay tuned!
Be My Prey
Part 1
You have been chosen by Sylas Briarwood to be his prey for the night. He thirsts for blood and he has his eyes on you, meaning he won’t relent until he has hunted you down.
The way you look around carefully he knows you are aware of his presence. He can hear your accelerated heartbeat and it thrills him, he wants more.
Upon these feelings he decides to make the hunt up ahead a game of chase throughout the city into the woods, making it impossible for you to seek shelter, wherever you go.
With light footsteps he approaches you. The sound they make drown in the noises around, allowing him to sneak up right behind you. He can smell your blood already, so delicious. It requires a huge amount of restraint for him to not sink his fangs into you the very moment he steps up behind you.
To his amusement he notices your nervousness, but no matter how often you look around you won’t be able to find him, unless he lets you know of his presence. He bends over and the moment his breath strives your ear, he whispers a simple question: „Are you looking for someone?“
At the deep voice you think about twirling around to get a glimpse at the owner of the voice, but your body doesn’t react. Instead you are frozen dead in your tracks by the fear that sends a shiver down your spine.
He simply remains there until you gather yourself enough to stammer „Who wants to know that…?“ Your smell makes him lick his lips involuntarily.
He now Reaches around you to take your hand and gently shifts you around to bow down and kiss it in the sense of formal greetings. “Allow me to introduce myself.”, he smirked, “My name is Sylas Briarwood.”
The first thing you realize, once he stands straight is his remarkable height, well accentuated by his broad shoulders. You are quite flustered by what happened before and his deep voice makes things even worse.
“What do you want from me?”, you ask, crossing your arms, scraping together your last bits of self control to steady up your voice. At your question his eyes start to inflame in a blood red and a broad grin bares his fangs, one single word leaving his mouth. “Run”
#critical role#critical role campaign 1#the legend of vox machina#sylas briarwood#vampire#fanfic#fanfiction#sylas briarwood x reader
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Video
youtube
ASMR | Vox Machina - Sylas Briarwood x Listener SFW You Smell Delicious [M4A] [Vampire] [Yandere??]
[M4A] [Vampire] [Threats] [Mind control] [Body control] [Biting] [Blood drinking] [Dubious consent]
Well well well... A very old request getting fulfilled. I was drawing Sylas and Vax on stream the other week and it sparked old ideas and a couple friends encouraged me so here he is, an attempt at a character I always feared not having a masculine enough voice for. I know it's not perfect. Let's avoid the misgendering please. I've been ignoring so many Silco requests because those videos seem to attract the most transphobic and misgendering comments ( for those unaware I am a trans man)
Custom audio commissions are open!
Full spicy audios on soundgasm and Patreon. Downloadable versions, exclusive spicy audios and Discord on Patreon.
I also stream on Twitch 3 times a week @ dervampireprince .
[minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.]
[do not repost/reupload/edit my audios/videos]
#sylas briarwood#vox machina#the legend of vox machina#legend of vox machina#critical role#sylas briarwood x reader#sylas briarwood x listener#critical role x reader#vox machina x reader#sylas briarwood x vax'ildan#sylas briarwood x vax#the vampire whispers#headcannons#imagines#vampire kink#nsft audios
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just read your vampire reader hcs. how abt some with babenon + marion as well pls. also with sylas + delilah if you want to.
Of course!! I’ll change this vamp!reader’s alignment (make them separate from the previous one hc’s), something to lawful neutral
Marion and Babenon
These tieflings have stolen your heart!
Your think they’re life stories and line of work interesting and they amuse you.
They’ve had lives of luxuries, but you wish to make them immortal.
Be it through personal commissioned portraits, poems, a melody you compose for them, or your mark
Sylas and Delilah
Well. As Vax said, “gosh you’re a handsome couple”
You three walk into anywhere at any time, the crowd dissipates for you and you alone
Marking each other is most definitely a thing and Delilah indulges in buying you all chokers if it’s “required” to hide said marks
Maybe you’re not as interested in being loyal to the Whispered One, but if came to them or another power, you choose them
#critical role#inbox answers#headcanons#tlovm#vox machina#the briarwoods#tlovm x y/n#tlovm x you#inbox requests#tlovm x reader#sylas briarwood#delilah briarwood#marion lavorre#babenon dosal#critical role x you#critical role x y/n#critical role x reader
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A love that burns.
Summary: Aemond is a man obsessed and you are the object of his unwavering devotion.
Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader
Word Count: 1037
Warnings: Canon book Aemond, manipulation?, sexual themes, oral (female receiving), p in v, absolute depravity and murder.
Author’s Note: This is a reader insert, but with the third person perspective, it is a bit Alys-coded kind of? (I rewrote one of her lines in F&B) A big thank you to @bhxrdy and @itbmojojoejo helping me fix some mistakes and for helping me choose the title 💜🦝
This story is dedicated to the wonderful, the talented @aegonx who gave me prompt #371 by @creativepromptsforwriting. She also made my nifty banner for my blog, so I owe her everything.
I am always happy to attempt any requests, I just cannot promise a timely fashion, as it is more whenever the muse strikes.
Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9
He was a dragon incarnate with the blood of Old Valyria knitted within the ichor that coursed through his veins. Aemond was proud, tall and lithe, his broad shoulders held back despite the burdened weight of his reputation that preceded him–Aemond the One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer, but those utterances only rolled like rain against the scales of Vhagar; he was unbothered, unharried, especially now his role within the kingdom elated with the title Prince Regent, and with it the Conqueror’s Crown to wear.
The metal and rubies held a weight that now grounded him, reminding him of his purpose, and he went to reclaim Harrenhal with the intent of killing every Strong bastard.
Here is where he had found her, an eerie calm amongst the chaos, silent despite the cries of mercy as each person was brought to the courtyard and slain. She had watched, unblinking, with an expression that was akin to when Aemond had watched his nuncle take the head of Vaemond Velaryon in the Throne Room a year prior; it had been a moment that kindled a bloodlust that thrummed beneath his skin, a vengeance that could not be forgotten.
That night, when she was brought to his quarters, she greeted him like an old lover, a sweet kiss pressed to his lips, her soft murmur, “I have been waiting for you, my prince.”
She came from a noble house without the wealth of Westeros, but revered still and old, old enough to carry the blood of the First Men and its mystical properties. She had followed her sister to Harrenhal when she was chosen to be the next wife for Ser Simon Strong.
Both were now dead and she did not seem to care.
“Then why did you choose to accompany your sister?” Aemond had asked her after; it was that intimate exchange shared in their bared embrace, nestled on sex soaked linens with her plush thighs serving as a pillow.
Her fingers thread through his silver hair. “The Isle of Faces,” and she smiled, as if she were stating the obvious; she leaned forward to give a chaste kiss to his lips. “I came to listen to the whispers of the weirwoods.”
Behind closed doors he was intoxicated by her proximity, with an unbridled lust that replaced the blood in his veins, as if she were the very embodiment of his siren call. They fell into one another, and he felt something that burned within him, something that perhaps was always there and only now ignited by her soft touch, by her gentle pull that brought him flushed against her chest.
Aemond would worship her through the night, drinking her very essence until the brim of her overstimulation, until he saw her lashes clumped together from her unshed tears, and only then would he shift his weight between her thighs, flushed and slick from her peaks.
He would move to press his heady cock, heavy and wanting, against her silken folds, and despite their many nights together, she would still feel split open, aware of the ridges and the veins of his thick member as he sheathed within. Her soft gasps came in response to his thrusts that would begin again the crests of ravishment that warmed her blood; and he would not stop his pace until she was a mewling mess, until the lewd sounds of skin to skin mixed with her cries of release, until his name was a repeated reverent prayer that spilled from her lips.
Aemond hummed her praises, his hot exhale against the curve of her neck. “The gods made you for me alone,” he would breathe against her lips and they would part in a silent cry, her skin pebbling with pleasure. “You were made to take my cock, and you do so well.”
His words brought her to the precipice and when she felt his hot pulse within her velvet walls, her own clenched in response to chase another climax with boneless ambition, with a sobbed release as the air tore from her lungs but she was breathless to reclaim. Only then would they curl into each other’s arms, their skin aglow with the intimacy shared, with the soft murmurs and quiet exchanges of lovers in their post-coital haze.
“I will have your son,” she promised him. “I can already feel the flames warming my womb.”
She was always at his side, devoted, everpresent, with a severe gaze that served as a balm for the Prince Regent in the most twisted way. They called her his Blood Queen as she seemed to encourage a sadism that pulsed beneath, speaking that the gods knew what had to be done and that he was the vessel of their actions, always encouraging him to listen to the beckon of the blood of Old Valyria.
Aemond became a man obsessed and she fed into his depravity; she spoke with such conviction and he believed her every word, her every prophecy. When she would take a boat across the waters, he would remain on the shore pacing like an animal caged, while Vhagar roared overhead, the wind beneath her wings causing turbulent waves that crashed against the lakeside.
She returned as her namesake with blood that covered her hands and her dress; she would whisper what she saw to him alone, of what was to come and what needed to be done. On one such day, she spoke of the betrayal in the Riverlands, of those who had chosen to ally with the Blacks and their false queen.
Aemond called for Vhagar and they climbed aback; she was knitted against his backside with her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, and she could feel his rumbled command, “Dracarys,” to rain fire below them, scorching the very earth. She hummed her contentment, the scent of sandalwood and smoke, a scent that intimately belonged to the Prince Regent.
Her arms curled around his slim waist and he looked down to see her small hand pressed against his chest. Though the histories would recall all the ugly things they had done, in this moment, as his palm reached to cover hers, all he thought was how their entwined fingers were so beautiful together.
arcie's masterlist
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female!reader#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd fanfiction#a love that burns
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Do one of reader is Uhtred’s daughter and fell in love with sihtric. Marry him in secret and Uhtred ends up freaking out when he finds out but then accepts. With smut is a cute scene from Uhtred's future with his grandson!
Warnings: smut, 18+, fluff, Sihtric's breeding kink…
Pairing: Sihtric x you (f)
Summary: see request!
Word count: 2,7k
Note: so, the ages don't add up if you look at the series and books, but then SKMD also ignored the character's ages, so just go with the flow here ;) thank you for your request! I hope you like it! I added a few more grandchildren though because... well... it's Sihtric lmao
taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @valeskafics
'Only for you, my wife, my goddess.'
******************
'Your father will kill us both, my love.'
'I simply do not care.'
'Are you sure? Because this means forever with me, do you really want that?'
'You know I do. How could I possibly ever want someone else when I have you, Sihtric Kjartansson. My handsome warrior,' you smiled, pulling him closer, 'my soon to be irresistible husband,' you giggled, kissing his ever so warm lips while brushing your hands through his soft, recently washed hair, messing up the braids he had just finished.
'Okay, if you are sure about me,' Sihtric chuckled, blushing, 'tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow,' you nodded, and pulled Sihtric down into bed with you.
Tomorrow you were to be husband and wife, so you both agreed that today, when you were still only just betrothed, you should perhaps hump a few times more than usual. Not that anything would be really different after tomorrow, but today was the last day that you could praise Sihtric by saying 'my future husband is such a good boy'. And if there was one thing Sihtric had enjoyed after he proposed, it was asking, 'is this how my future wife wants me to please her?' before he went down on you.
It is true that your father, Uhtred, Lord Uhtred, did not know about your plans to wed, and there was a good chance he would kill you.
You met Sihtric a few months ago, after your father had accepted his oath of loyalty and brought him back home as a member of his household troops. You fell in love quickly, but didn't tell your father about it. He did suspect you and Sihtric were maybe more than just friends, much to his disgrace, and he thought that by sending Sihtric away to deliver messages back and forth between the lands, and so keeping him away from you, you would simply forget about him.
But, unfortunately for your father, instead of forgetting about each other, you and Sihtric desperately wanted to get married as soon as possible. A little reassurance, so you knew your husband would always come back to you, and so Sihtric knew he always had a wife to come back for. But it would also mean that you, as his wife, were allowed to travel with him. So, that, and the fact you could brag about claiming to have the best looking man in Coccham as your husband, which Finan would strongly argue against, was more than enough reason for you to marry.
*****************
'Why don't we go back to your home?'
'Our home,' Sihtric corrected you.
'Our home,' you smiled and rolled your eyes.
'Because yours is closer,' Sihtric smiled as he kissed you, his recently wedded wife, 'and why waste any time?' he grinned.
Sihtric had his own home, and as he had no one to look after, you'd usually go there if you simply wanted to hump, and it didn't take long before you had seen every corner and every piece of furniture several times already. Sihtric's home was the safest option, and also where you would live with him after today, but you both couldn't wait any longer.
Sihtric persuaded you easily with a kiss and threw you over his shoulder before he stepped into your home. The home you still shared with your father, but Uhtred was out scouting with Finan, so you had the entire home for yourself until late night.
Sihtric knew the way to your bed all too well, for he had often snuck in at night to see you, when Uhtred was asleep. But you had also escaped your father's overprotectiveness by sneaking out in the dead of night to find Sihtric.
'My wife,' Sihtric smiled after he had thrown you onto the bed, biting down on his lip as he spread your knees and positioned his body in between, 'my beautiful wife,' he whispered before he leaned in to kiss you, 'I will honour you and I will love you, always.'
'And so will I,' you said, moving your hands into his hair and pulling him close, eagerly deepening the kiss.
'And I will give my wife as many children as she wants,' Sihtric smiled cheekily, his fingers squeezing into your soft thighs as he kissed your neck.
'Oh, gods,' you moaned, pulling his hair again as you arch your back lightly, 'I want as many as you can give me, husband. Fill me with them, now, please, Sihtric.'
'In time,' Sihtric teased, 'first I need to inspect every inch of my new wife.'
You groaned in frustration and cursed something at him, to which Sihtric smirked. He knew you were impatient, but he loved feeling wanted and desired, and you made him feel just that. He was eager for you, the same as you were for him, but he wanted nothing more than letting you know how he adored you.
Sihtric made quick work of the light, thin dress you had worn for your secret wedding and your undergarments. When he had seen you earlier that day, walking towards him, holding a little bouquet of flowers in your hands, he already couldn't wait for this moment. To have you underneath him, watching you beg for him and curse as he explores your skin with his mouth; pecking, sucking, licking, biting and kissing every inch of you. And you loved it as much as he did. If anything, Sihtric knew how to please you and push you over your edge in no time.
'Is this how my wife wishes to be pleased?' Sihtric asked, kissing up your thigh and moving your legs up over his shoulders, before you felt his lips peck lightly at your core.
'Yes! Gods,' you moaned, as you felt his soft tongue exploring you in all the right ways, making you roll your eyes back in pleasure. 'Such a... such a good boy, my- my husband, so good,' you murmured, slightly bucking your hips, wanting and needing more of him, to which Sihtric firmly grabbed your hips, burying his tongue deeper, drinking you in all the way as he sucked, licked and kissed your sweet spot.
'Sihtric,' you breathed heavily, pulling his hair, 'please.'
'Yes, my love?' he smiled, looking up from between your legs, 'what is it?'
'Need you… I-' you spoke in between heavy breaths, 'need you inside me, baby, please.'
Sihtric chuckled satisfied and crawled back up to you, kissing you intensely, wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue. And he took off his breeches, rather clumsily, as you wouldn't leave his lips. And when you felt him smile, you couldn't help but smile too, knowing how lucky you were to call this sweet boy your husband.
When you were both completely naked, covered under the furs, Sihtric asked how you wanted him today. To which you said, 'the way you like it, my love.'
And so he did, flipping you over and pulling you on top of him. Watching you with loving, yet heavy eyes of pleasure as you enjoyed him all inside you while his hands trailed over your body, lovingly squeezing and grabbing wherever he could as you pleased him just the way he liked it.
'I-I,' Sihtric's breath hitched, 'I'm close, my love.'
'Then you know what to do,' you smiled and spoke in between heavy breaths, trailing your hands up his muscular chest, to his broad shoulders. And once you had grabbed onto his warm skin, Sihtric flipped you over on your back again with a light chuckle as you giggled. You watched your husband on top of you, enjoying you as if it were Valhalla on earth to him. His groans and sighs in your ear as he thrusted into you made you scream out his name, which was enough to tip Sihtric over his edge too, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he spilled inside you, not wanting to waste a drop of him while he filled you up.
'So- so beautiful,' he sighed out of breath, 'so good, you, my wife, so perfect for me,' he murmured through his high as he nuzzled your neck slowly.
'So are you,' you smiled out of breath, running your fingers through his hair, 'made for me, you were made for me, to be my husband.'
'I was,' he agreed with a chuckle, 'just for you. Only for you, my wife, my goddess,' Sihtric whispered before he kissed you softly, 'I love you, eternally.'
'As do I, sweeting, I love you, until Valhalla.'
'And ever after?'
'And ever after,' you smiled and pulled his lips back to yours.
Sihtric pulled out slowly but stayed on top of you, pecking your lips and face with a smile as he watched you underneath him, glowing, satisfied, happy and safe. Your bliss unfortunately lasted merely seconds, when suddenly the door to your room flung open.
'Father?!' you screamed, shocked that he was home already and youimmediately reached for the furs, but Sihtric beat you to it.
'Lord!' Sihtric said, wide eyed, quickly covering you up with the furs while you tried to do so yourself.
'What is this?!' Uhtred hissed, eyes wide as a wild animal, 'Sihtric!' he shouted as he stepped towards the bed, 'that is my daughter!' he huffed, pulling Sihtric off you by yanking his ear.
'Lord!' Sihtric raised his voice suddenly, quickly reaching for one of the furs to cover himself up as Uhtred dragged him away from you.
'Father! Stop!' you jumped up, also desperately clinging onto the fur around your body.
'What is this!' Uhtred shouted again, confused and horrified by the sight of his daughter and the boy, one of his most loyal men, both naked in the same room, 'what is he to you?!'
'He,' you said curtly, looking at Sihtric, 'is my husband.'
Uhtred darted his eyes between you and Sihtric, before he finally settled his deadly stare into the eyes of your handsome husband.
'Your husba-,' he paused, 'no he is not!' Uhtred exclaimed.
'No, I am not, lord,' Sihtric panicked, almost dropping the fur that barely covered him.
'Yes he is! Sihtric,' you scoffed, 'you are!'
'Are you?' Uhtred asked, threateningly, 'her husband?'
'I- I,' Sihtric stammered.
'You lie to me?' Uhtred's voice suddenly calmed, placing his hand onto Sihtric's shoulder as a power play, while you quickly dressed yourself.
'I didn't mean to, lord,' Sihtric flinched lightly, as if expecting a slap across the face.
'Who married you?'
'I'm s-sorry,' Sihtric said, closing his eyes and awaiting his punishment.
'Who married you?' Uhtred asked again, raising his voice.
'Father, stop it!' you pulled his hand off Sihtric, who you quickly pulled back towards you as his trembling hands held onto the fur, 'you can't behave like this!' you scowled.
You took Sihtric's trembling hand in yours as you placed your other hand on his cheek, caressing it softly while you brought his face to rest against your own.
'No one will hurt you, my love,' you whispered, 'I promise.'
Uhtred watched the couple, bewildered, and he rubbed his hands over his face, awaiting an explanation.
'Beocca married us,' you said, stepping in front of Sihtric as you turned to face your father, 'this morning.'
'This morning?'
'Yes,' you said curtly, 'and we have consummated the marriage already so there is nothing you can do about it anymore.'
'Oh, I can,' Uhtred huffed, his hand reaching for Serpent-Breath's hilt.
'But you will not!'
'Give me one reason.'
'Because I love him!' you said, 'and he loves me.'
Uhtred dropped his hand slowly, away from his sword and looked at you and Sihtric in silence for a moment.
'Is that true?' he asked Sihtric, 'you love her?'
'I do, lord.'
Uhtred sighed, smacking his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
'What is the plan then? You both live here?' Uhtred grimaced.
'No, we agreed that I will move in with Sihtric.'
'Absolutely not,' Uhtred snapped.
'Why not!'
'I can not think of you sharing your bed with him every night!'
'So, then what,' you scoffed, 'you want us to live here so you can hear it every night?'
'No!' Uhtred felt his stomach twist at the thought.
'I will live with him, father, it is already decided,' you said calmly, reaching behind you to lace your fingers with Sihtric's, who was blushing heavily. 'Do we have your blessings?' you asked.
'My blessings?' Uhtred scoffed and thought quietly for a long moment before he huffed, 'fine.'
You both snapped your faces up to Uhtred, who still grimaced lightly.
'Thank you!' you smiled widely.
'Thank you, lord,' Sihtric smiled, 'we- we will name our first son after you.'
'What? No!' you pulled a face.
'No you will not!' Uhtred scowled.
'We will not,' Sihtric mumbled, squeezing your hand softly.
Uhtred felt sick again and left as fast as he could, after which you both chuckled nervously before Sihtric helped you pack up your belongings, moving everything over to his home.
*****************
five years later
*****************
'How many more are ye planning? Sweet Jesus,' Finan chuckled as he held your youngest.
'No more, for now,' you sighed and looked up at your husband, 'my body is tired,' you chuckled lightly.
'I know, my love,' Sihtric smiled sweetly at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, 'you have already given me more than I could dream of.'
'Aye, same goes for him,' Finan cocked his head towards Uhtred, who was face flat on the grass, piled under your three other children, who all tried to throw soft punches at him.
Sihtric had truly kept his promise, and you found out he already got you pregnant on your wedding day. You gave birth to a beautiful boy, named Cynlaef, who, as young as he was, already started to take after his father; charming and always in a mood to play pretend fights with grandpa Uhtred and uncle Finan, but it was uncle Osferth who always got the most beatings.
Only two months after you had given birth to your first son, you found out you were pregnant, again. Sihtric was ecstatic, Osferth surprised, Finan a little shocked, Uhtred still appalled at the thought of his daughter with Sihtric, or with any man for that matter, and you were happy but also nervous. You loved your married with kids life, but you worried about providing for your children when Sihtric wasn't there. You had expressed your worries to your father, but he told you there was nothing to worry about, except that a battle would soon approach and Sihtric had to go.
And so you gave birth, without your husband by your side, to a daughter who would be named Gunnora. Sihtric had returned several weeks after you had given birth, and from that moment it was already clear that Gunnora was daddy's girl, and whoever would end up betrothing her, would have a hard time convincing Sihtric. What Sihtric wasn't hard to be convinced of, was that you had missed him and you desperately wanted him. Which once again led to pregnancy and resulted in another boy named Björn. A few months after Björn was born, you became pregnant again, and so there would be another boy; Torsten.
As much as you loved your children, you had enough and discussed with Sihtric how you simply couldn't birth another child, at least, not for a few years. Although Sihtric loved seeing you pregnant with his pups, he understood and agreed, not telling you how he was sometimes so exhausted he would fall asleep when he actually had to guard the fortress. And so, shortly after your last birthed child, you found a healer, who gave you a potion to drink each time after you had humped. And luckily for you, it worked wonders.
Uhtred, your father, truly loved his grandchildren and would stop by whenever he could. But you could tell four grandkids was a lot, even for him. He walked back over to you with your eldest on his back, your daughter in his arms and your other son got dragged over the grass as he clung onto Uhtred's ankle.
'Lord,' Finan snorted, 'your daughter has something to tell you,' he taunted, riling Uhtred up.
'No!' Uhtred shouted, exhausted, 'no more children! Please!' to which Finan laughed loudly and slapped Sihtric's shoulder, who also couldn't help but laugh at Uhtred's sheer panic.
'No,' you laughed, 'Finan is just messing with you, father, there will be no more children for at least a while,' you reassured him.
'Bless the gods,' Uhtred smiled with relief as he set Gunnora back down on her feet, who immediately ran to Sihtric, claiming his attention away from you.
'Mother!' Cynlaef exclaimed as he jumped off Uhtred's back, 'grandpa said I can fight with him! Just like dad!'
'Did he?' you gave Uhtred a disapproving look, who grinned and shrugged. 'We'll talk about that when you are old enough, son,' you said, 'now, go wash your hands. All of you, it's time for dinner. And you all know the rules, no talks about battles at the table.'
'Aye,' Finan said as he caught your hard stare, 'I won't say a word.'
'Nor speak of more children,' Uhtred commented.
'That too,' you laughed. Sihtric rolled his eyes and gave you a kiss, before he followed your children inside, where you watched him make order of the chaos as he sat them all down at the table. And you thought that maybe another child wouldn't be so sad. But just not this year.
'Maybe next year,' you smiled to yourself and took a seat in between your irresistible husband and your softened father.
#sihtric x reader#sihtric x you#the last kingdom fic#sihtric fic#the last kingdom#sihtric kjartansson#sihtric#tlk#the last kingdom fanfic
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First and Goal
Hangman hosts a college football day for the Daggers, only to have Payback bring a history making Angel. (Hangman x female Reader fluff, no use of 'you')
Completely self-indulgant college football fic after seeing Glen and Danny at the Texas and Miami games last week. Fic contains some trash talking of Miami and Alabama. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.
Word count: 1.5K
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Jake tore his eyes away from the television when the doorbell rang, huffing as the Game Day announcers stalled on making their prediction of who would win the Texas vs. Alabama game. Phoenix pushed away from the kitchen island where she and Coyote were grazing on the snacks he’d set out.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he grumbled as two hosts picked Bama. Planting his hands on his hips, he pressed his lips into a thin line when Lee Corso called for the fight song to play, and the twang of Sweet Home Alabama started.
“Roll Tide, I guess,” came a sigh beside him. Jake’s gaze snapped to the woman, taking in her crimson shirt, Navy regulation bun, and furrowed brow as she watched the antics.
“Hey, hey, hey! Oh no, wait a minute, wait a minute. That’s not the right song - play Texas’ song!”
“Yes!” He pumped his fist as Corso put on the Hook’em head.
“Thank Christ.”
“Not rooting for your team?” he asked, facing her. She rolled her eyes, pointing towards the logo on her chest - a Seminole head.
“Might wanna get your eyes checked - garnet, not crimson.” A slight southern accent colored her words. “While I appreciate Bama for making Tim Tebow cry, their fans are insufferable. I’m ready for them to get taken down a peg. If the Longhorns are the ones to do it, I guess I’ll put up with more of the Gig ‘em nonsense.”
“Hook ‘em,” Jake corrected, and the smirk curving her lips made him think she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Giving Hangman shit already, Syla?” Payback asked, tossing an arm over the woman’s shoulder. The woman grinned up at the pilot and raised an eyebrow.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she laughed. Jake felt a shot of disappointment at the fond look that passed between the two. “But if you’re Hangman,” she added, turning her attention back towards Jake, “this is for you. Thanks for letting me crash.” She extended a bottle towards him - Wolcott bourbon, bottled in the bond.
“Thanks. Syla your name or callsign?”
“Callsign.”
“You stationed here?”
“Soon, but I’m in town for the show.”
“The…” he frowned, then nodded. “You’re a Blue Angel?”
“That I am.” The Blue Angels were the Navy’s flight demonstration team. Stationed at NAS Pensacola, they were the most high-profile squad that toured across the US. It’d made the news that they finally had their first female aviator on the team two years ago. “At least until the end of the tour, then I’m headed back to TOPGUN.”
“Oh, come on,” Fanboy grumbled, watching as the University of Miami quarterback was sacked. Across the kitchen, Syla pumped her fist and silently cheered while nursing her water bottle. Jake smirked into his beer. Fanboy and Syla had exchanged some good-natured shit-talking since Florida State and Miami were in the same conference and would be playing against one another later in the season.
When she’d shared the story behind her callsign - Syla, short for See Ya Later Alligator - Fanboy had gone red in the face laughing as Jake chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Bob asked.
Heaving a sigh, Syla explained, “My team is FSU Seminoles. We hate the Florida Gators, and there was a Gators fan in FRS with me. Our COs got tired of us shit-talking the whole season and decided to punish us by making our callsigns have to do with our rivalry. So I’m Syla, and he’s Renegade after our mascot.”
“At least it’s not Swamp,” Jake offered, thinking of how Gainesville, where the University of Florida was located, was nicknamed ‘The Swamp.’
“Yeah, that cost me 150 pushups.”
“Run, run, run, run, run!” Syla screamed, jumping off the couch with Jake beside her.
“Come on!” he yelled. When the player was tackled after a 40-yard run, he whooped and held a hand to Syla, who laughed and slapped his palm before leaning around him to high-five Fanboy.
“Fuck. There’s three of them,” Phoenix grumbled.
The afternoon passed into shouts of “He was wide fucking open!”, “No! Sit his ass down!”, “Where’s the damn flag?”, “Pass interference!” and “Find it! Find it!” During commercials, they quickly learned about one another - Syla was a Florida girl born and raised in Tallahassee. She’d graduated from FSU and attended as many games as possible during the last three years she’d been stationed in Pensacola. Touring with the Angels made it hard since she was on the road from March to November, but the constant travel was worth it to be the first female Blue Angel. She was looking forward to the stability of being an instructor at TOPGUN and not living out of her duffle bag.
Syla retrieved her uniform from Payback’s car at halftime and disappeared into the bathroom. “She’s nice,” Coyote told Payback as Jake stepped into his backyard.
“She’s great. Pain in the ass perfectionist, but that’s what got her on the Angels.”
“She’ll be a good trainer,” Phoenix added. “Have you seen that diamond maneuver they pull?”
“So, how do you know each other?” Jake asked, glancing at Payback.
“We met in flight school and kept in touch from there.”
“You guys…” Rooster cocked an eyebrow.
“Nooo,” Payback quickly replied, then shuddered. “She’s like a sister. A sister,” he repeated, pinning the other men with a stern, warning look.
A while later, the door opened, and Syla peeked out, her eyes meeting Jake’s. “They’re about to kick off.”
“Be right in,” he smiled back. After collecting the empty beer bottles from his friends, he jogged back inside. Syla had swapped out her jean shorts and t-shirt for her dress white skirt, and white tank top. She declined another drink - she’d sipped a glass of bourbon earlier before switching to water, saying that she needed to be sharp for work later - but accepted a soda.
The Daggers drifted in and out of the house, Payback sometimes joining them in the cheering squad, but Syla and Jake were glued to the game. When Texas threw a 39-yard touchdown to pull further ahead, Jake screamed and jumped around his living room, much to the amusement of his friends. Syla whooped and clapped, raising her hand for a high five. Their palms slapped, and his fingers curled around hers, giving a quick shake before collapsing beside her. His shoulders brushed against her as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and covering his mouth.
“We gotta head out soon if you’re gonna make the dinner,” Payback said as the game clock wound down.
“Shit,” Syla groaned, glancing at her watch. Between plays, she quickly slipped on her blouse, lower lip between her teeth as she watched the action and did up the buttons. Jake couldn’t help but glance at her legs as she swayed beside him, their knees touching as she tucked in her shirt.
When the quarterback took a snap and dropped to his knee, Jake exploded off the couch, whooping as Texas won. Without thinking, his arms wrapped around a laughing Syla, lifting her off her feet as he celebrated his team beating the Crimson Tide on their home field.
“Syla, we really gotta go,” Payback said.
“Fuck, okay, uh,” she said, stepping out of Jake’s reach and patting his shoulder. “Congrats on the win. It was nice meeting all of you. I’ll hopefully see you in a couple months if I don’t get reprimanded for being late for dinner with the top brass. Oh, and Fanboy - I’ll think of you when I’m in Doak for the game in November.”
Smirking, Fanboy held up his hands, his thumbs touching to make the Miami ‘U’ signal. She gave him a saccharine smile and did the same; all her fingers were down except her middle ones, so she flipped him off. “I’ll walk you out,” Jake offered, grabbing Syla’s bag from the dining room table. Payback narrowed his eyes at the other man. “It sucks you can’t watch your team play tonight.”
“It’s fine,” she shrugged, “we played our hard game against LSU last week, and it’s an easy match-up this week. I’ll just duck into the bathroom and check the score every once in a while.”
“What time do you fly tomorrow?”
“Gates open at 0800, and we’re the closer at 1520. Why, gonna come to the show, Hangman?”
“You never know,” he winked. “Heard the Angels do a pretty impressive diamond formation.”
“18-inch clearance, wingtip to canopy,” she smirked. “If you come, I’ll be in the blue and yellow flight suit.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Chuckling, she took her bag, their fingers brushing and sending a pleasant tingling sensation up his spine. “Good to meet you, Syla.”
“You too, Hangman.”
Payback paused beside Jake when she walked away and hissed, “No.”
---------------------------------------------------
Notes: The Blue Angels are based out of Pensacola and just welcomed their first female pilot in 2023 - callsign Stalin. I miss seeing them buzz the beaches and hear them practice in the afternoons. They tour the US and Canada, and the clips I've seen are phenomenal. If you haven't seen the pilot perspective of the tight diamond formation, I highly recommend it.
The 0800 and 1520 are military time, so it's 1520 is 3:20PM.
Read part 2, Overtime.
#hangman fic#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#Jake Seresin#jake hangman seresin#top gun#top gun fanfiction#top gun x female reader
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kissing their scar ; scenarios
SYLAS
This man is a teaser, he will try in every way to make you blush. But when you take his battle-hardened hands and kiss his scars Sylas is the one who's blushing.
His hands are something intimate and important to him, so seeing you kissing his bruises sparks something light up in Sylas he's never felt before: being taken care of by someone.
"God I'll never be prepared to deal with you, little thing."
YASUO
Yasuo enjoys lounging under trees with you cuddled in his arms, it's something intimate that you both enjoy and brings peace to your relationship.
It is at this moment that you can appreciate Yasuo's body, dragging your fingers through his skin and being able to leave a kiss on the scars that are on his chest. He will open his eyes and smile in surprise at the way you appreciate him, he just can't control how much he loves you.
"How can I deserve you, my love?"
DARIUS
Darius is a warrior so it's not surprising that he comes home with injuries, he will always complain about how you care for him for nothing, and he will always come back to you.
But still his heart skips a beat when you kiss the bruises over the bandages, making him hug you like you're the most fragile and precious pearl
""What would I do without you, doll?"
APHELIOS
He loves how someone can take care of him as lovingly as his sister does. He loves every little detail in how you care.
The moment you caress and kiss your scars Aphelios hugs you tight, stroking your hair and passing on all the love and gratitude he feels for you. Just thank you for being by his side.
VIEGO
Oh boy, Viego is romantic, caring and affectionate. You are his life and everything he will fight to protect. When you two are relaxing together in your bed and you kiss the scar on his chest you can swear you hear a little sob from him.
"You.."
He'll hold you against him fearing he'll lose you someday and he'll use all the words of love he knows and doesn't know. He will never let anything happen to you.
"You are my world, my queen/king"
#league of legends x reader#league of legends headcanons#league of legends imagine#yasuo#viego#aphelios#sylas x reader#sylas#darius
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PART 3 Lord and lady
Vampire lord Astarion x spawn!reader
Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, gore, vampire things, eventual smut, swearing, hurt comfort, talking about killing ones self
Previous part <-
His? How? You weren’t his spawn, you would’ve known and you assumed he wouldn’t have left you to ravage on as you have.
“Sire” you heard a man.
“For hells sake, what?!” Astarion snapped.
“The court are talking” the man said.
“Let them talk, this situation is delicate” he said eyes on you. You, you were the situation, why did you have all this attention.
“Tell them to occupy themselves, do whatever it is they do day to day, I don’t care” Astarion waved the man off and the door closed behind the man.
“I’m not your spawn” you said.
“I know” he answered.
“Whoever is your ‘master’ I’ll kill them” he said darkly.
“You said you wouldn’t kill one of your kind” you pointed out.
“I won’t kill you, I’ll happily kill anyone else” he crossed his arms over his chest and you tensed.
“Why’d you run here?” He asked nodding to the bedroom.
“I don’t know” you shrugged glancing around the sleek furniture. The carpet that you stood on was fluffy between your toes.
“This is my room” he smirked cockily.
“I just arrived here I didn’t know!” You fought and he chuckled.
“You’re calm now” he pointed out. He was correct, his blood felt like a warmth inside you, soothing your aches and rage.
“That doesn’t change anything why am I here?! Why did you take me in!” you stated and he glared. He moved quickly, hand on your throat as he sneered down at you, your heart pounding.
“Did you not listen to what I said?” He said eyes stern, your mind was racing, however your body almost ached to be closer.
“I am not yours” you said face turning hard. He growled ready for your challenge. He tsked letting go of your throat and leaving the room. You panted and watched him, the door slamming behind him. You groaned glancing around the room, it was overly clean, almost like it wasn’t used. The bed sheet smelt fresh, too fresh, there was little decor besides the rug in the floor. You heard a knock and frowned looking to the door, surely his servants saw him storm off.
“Come in?” You said seeing the door open, the woman, Syla, standing there. She walked in and closed the door a slight frown on her face.
“Is there a reason our lord stormed off?” She asked and you rolled your eyes.
“He’s a child” you huffed and her eyes went stern.
“He’s been here a long time, been through a lot” she stood up for him, you supposed she had to, he was her master.
“I want to leave” you stated and she huffed arms crossing over her chest.
“And go back to being an animal?” She scoffed and you frowned at her.
“Yes! And die!” You said and she rolled her eyes apparently fed up with you.
“You tried, didn’t work” she commented and you growled at her, she snarled back fangs bared.
“You don’t know anything about me, let me leave and you can have your precious lord to yourself” you said and she snapped, she rushed to you, fist connected to your jaw. You groaned stumbling a rage thrumming in your chest. Your rage flared, nails going into claws, you swiped and knocked her to the ground. You would’ve killed her there and then on a rage if you weren’t torn off and pulled to a hard chest.
“What the hell is going on here?” You panted seeing the slightly scared look in her eyes made your rage thrill. You didn’t know the person hold you though, you bit their arm that was around your shoulders making them wince and let go. You took off into the hallways running into the lord of this castle. He stood in a challenging way, daring you to leave and go past him.
“Let her leave and kill herself!” Syla snarled behind you and Astarions eyes snapped to hers in an evil anger. He held his hand up, red magic emitting from it, you heard her struggling behind you and then a body fell to the floor, no movement, no heartbeat. You stared at Astarion who was panting, hand clenched tightly in a fist, he shook his head like a spell was over him. He looked back to the body and frowned lowering his hand.
“What are you doing to me?” He asked.
“Oh dear” you heard the voice from before making you turn, seeing a large man, he stood over Sylas body, looking ghostly pale and her skin stuck to her skeleton.
“Get rid of the body” Astarion ordered and the large man nodded picking up the body and leaving.
“How did you manage to want someone to kill you within five minutes?” Astarion sighed.
“Because she’s the little lords pet” you sassed back seeing the slight smirk he gave.
“Would you like to be introduced to the rest of the court? Or rip them apart?” He asked smirking and you sighed, he wasn’t going to let your leave. He introduced you to his court, they were all hesitant and giving scared smiles and glances, was his court run on fear? After the introductions you felt the energy drained from your body, it’d been years since you had any human interaction, well vampire interaction. They eventually went their separate ways, bidding each other Goodnight, seems it was resting time.
“Would you like to rest?” You heard Astarion beside you as you looked at a painting on a wall. You hesitated but nodded and he hummed gesturing for you to follow him.
“I’ve had Molly set up a room for you” he said as he opened a door. You looked in shock at the fancy room, did the others look like this? The bed looked so comfortable, many pillows and sheets, a fur on top of it all.
“You seem to find your way to my room, however it’s down the hall” he teased as you just looked around.
“Well go on” he urged and you went inside. You looked over the furniture, opening the cupboard out of curiosity only to see it filled with clothing.
“Mollys very talented” Astarion said and you nodded. You looked over the purfumes, makeup, different human things you forgot even existed.
“Should you think about running, I will chase you” you glanced to him, seeing the dark look in his eyes before he smiled.
“Goodnight, darling” he said and disappeared, closing the door. You sagged sitting on the edge of the bed, you weren’t so hungry, in fact you weren’t hungry at all, living off rabbits and deer never satisfied, forcing yourself to starve also was horrible. You fiddled with your smooth hair, tears in your eyes as you laid down on the cloud like bed. What was your life? What had happened? Everything seemed a blur the moment you turned.
Next part ->
Tag list:
@perseny
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grog scanlan Could I please request grog scanlan and maybe Sylas Briarwood, Delilah Briarwood with a werewolf s/o Like they find out and s/o was trying to hind it Because they were afraid how they would react.
Finding Out S/O is a Werewolf
Fandom: Critical Role
Characters: Delilah Briarwood, Sylas Briarwood, Scanlan Shorthalt, Grog Strongjaw
Type of Request: Headcanons
Notes: I didn’t know if you wanted the Briarwoods as a poly or separate so I did them as a Poly!!
Grog
He's too busy falling in love even more after he sees you turning. Grog thought you were badass before.
Tells you he's pissed you hid this from him because he thinks it's so cool. Absolutely asks you to bite or claw or whatever to see if he can become a werewolf too.
Grog isn't the best with words so he might call you dumb for thinking he'd hate you for something like this. He's helped shred an old lady before just for being on the wrong side. You being a werewolf is nothing.
He just asks you so many questions about being a werewolf because your just so much cooler than him now (not that he'd admit that).
Scanlan
Uhhh yeah some forewarning would've been nice S/O. Watching you transform did little for his appetite.
Don't get me wrong, he's not scared of you or hates you or anything. Well, he's kind of upset that you'd hide something like that. He's been honest and open with you about stuff.
Scanlan has been with many different species so guess he can cross a werewolf off the list. Not that he'd say that out loud since you could definitely tear him to pieces.
Does worry a tad. You were scared of telling him about your lycanthropy. Do you want to be cured? Cause he has connections with Vox Machina and being The Meat Man. He can start looking right away if you want.
The Briarwoods
They knew you were hiding something from them. With the deception techniques they use, it's easy to pick up on other people's lies.
Sylas can't help but feel amusement at you being a werewolf. Were you afraid because of the stereotypical vampires vs. werewolves nonsense?
Delilah is more interested in studying your lycanthropy. She won't do experiments on your or anything, but she does want to take notes on how your physical aspects changed.
If you want a cure then they'll happily find one for you. But you get many reassurances for your gift.
#critical role x reader#grog strongjaw x reader#grog x reader#scanlan x reader#scanlan shorthalt x reader#delilah briarwood x reader#sylas briarwood x reader
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To Take Pleasure
Pairing: Osferth x female reader
Word count: 2.1k
Summary: You share a lazy and passionate morning with Osferth. Oneshot pwp, established relationship.
Content warning(s): light edging, mild elements of very soft dom!Osferth, mentions of faith
Rating: E
Requests open
tagging: @sylas-the-grim / @myfandomprompts / @arcielee
small note: thank you so much for the encouragement and kind words on my last Osferth piece, it honestly means the world to me, thank you so so so so much. I read every tag and comment multiple times giggling and kicking my feet!
The morning is quiet. It is raining outside and the noise of it is comforting. It feels like home. Inside the bed chamber, only two creatures move. In the small bedroom, atop the warm bed, Oseferth winds his hand into your hair.
You lay under him and your whole body moves with the rhythm of your coupling. One leg is pulled up at your side on the firm mattress, allowing him to fill you from behind. He lays atop you, his back arched, and thrusts into you at a steady pace. Osferth gently pulls on your hair, and you lift your head up with a quiet moan.
“Oh, my lady,” he whispers against your ear. “Yes, just like that.”
You sigh and grind your hips against the bed in time with his movements. “Touch me,” you breathe.
“Aren’t I touching you enough?” he asks with a smile, and to illustrate his point, he lets go of your hair and runs a flat palm down your side.
Laughter catches in your throat and turns into another sigh of delight when he presses his hand under your chest and teases your nipple between his fingers. “Not there.”
His lips are still at your ear. “Tell me where, my lady. I’d like to hear you say it.”
When Osferth slows his movements to an intolerably slow pace, you swear quietly. “You know where I want you.” You drop your weight onto the bed and turn your head to the side, but it isn’t enough to see him. Your breathing begins to calm in this moment of respite.
“I do.” Osferth pulls out of you carefully and rests his cock on the crease of your backside. He is slick from you, and he moves against you. It makes his eyes roll back. “But I want this to last longer. You’re too close for that.”
You bite your lip. You prop yourself up on your forearms, and you raise your hips in an invitation. Osferth rises to his knees behind you and slips himself along your cunt. You both make noises of approval when his tip glides over your clit. Reaching between your legs, you press him between your folds and run his tip in circles where you want him. The tension in your lower stomach grows, and there are noises in the back of your throat with every breath.
“Easy, love,” Osferth soothes with a smile. Your pleasure is enough to have him crashing, but he means what he said. He wants it to last longer.
You let him go with a sigh.
“Are you ready?” he asks as he guides himself back to your entrance. He presses gently.
You whimper and nod, and you reach back a hand to find him. He weaves your fingers together and slides back inside you. “Oh God,” Osferth swears. The delight of it forces his eyes shut. “You feel so wonderful, my love. Oh, yes, you’re so good.”
You push yourself up, so you're both kneeling, his chest at your back, and you wind the hand you hold around you until his arm embraces you tightly. “Please don’t stop again,” you beg between gasping moans. “I’ll die!”
He chuckles, and the noise is broken by his own moans. “Then I won’t. Oh, love.”
With one hand still in yours, Osferth runs the other up to your neck, and he carefully grasps it, and he turns your head until he can kiss you. You part your lips eagerly, and you swallow his noises of delight and run your tongue over his as you fuck.
“Touch me,” you beg after a while. The only noises that sing above the rain outside are that of your coupling that has become more desperate. “Please, Osferth! I’m so close.”
He slams into you once, twice more, and suddenly pulls out from you with a groan. You fall forward onto the bed with a shout of frustration, and Osferth flips you onto your back before you can find release with your own hand. He drags you until your legs hang off the side of the bed, and then he is on his knees in front of you and his tongue is trailing up the inside of your thigh. “Don’t misbehave,” he tells you with a chuckle.
The frustration of your denied orgasm has your muscles tensing and releasing, and tears prick your eyes. But you like this game. You ask for it. You fling your arm over your eyes and nod, thighs twitching.
Osferth kisses up to your hip and then back down to your cunt, where he tastes the salt that has pooled to welcome him. He glances up at you and raises his head as he smiles. “My good lady.”
"My good Osferth." Your reply is strained, but it makes your heart leap to see how brightly it makes him smile. You run your fingers through his hair, and when you gently press the back of his head, he follows where you lead. His soft lips press between your legs and you sigh.
It makes your toes curl as he licks a long line from your clit down to your entrance; he uses the flat of his tongue to apply pressure, before ghosting the tip against you again and again. You hear his quiet gasp of need, and it's followed by the sensation of his tongue pressing inside you. He keeps his lips over his teeth as his tongue sinks deeper, and surely he can feel your heartbeat against his chin. On his tongue, you feel yourself getting fucked. He tilts his sharp jaw up, and you grind down to meet him, and there, yes, there, his pretty nose catches your clit.
"Fuck!" The word escapes you before you can stop it. Osferth is not one to use profane language. But he does not seem to be one to take a woman on his tongue, yet here he is.
Your legs press against his ears, and you manage to look down to see how proudly he wears your thighs as his crown. A bastard son of a king, looking so pretty, anointed by your cunt on his lips. His tongue is firmer now, and he presses it over your slit and to your clit. It makes your back arch. It makes your head thrash from side to side. He's good, he's so good to you, it makes you feel holy-
"You're perfect," you whine between gasps and moans. "Look at me!"
Without needing to ask twice, his eyes open and burn into you. He beholds you as he devours you, eyes round and blue, worshipful. Your brow furrows as pleasure mounts and mounts, and your mouth opens in laughter and delight. "Don't stop!"
Suddenly he's sucking around you and humming lowly, and it's almost enough to push you over the edge.
"Don't stop, don't stop, don't-!"
And he does. Just as he brings you to the brink, he pulls off you with a pop, his mouth wet and cheeks and chin glistening. It makes you twist and turn in frustration, and your eyes stream in frustration.
"Fuck you!"
He chuckles lowly and lies on top of you, his whole weight pressing you into the little bed. "This is what you asked for," he reminds you. Your legs are clamped shut under him, and so you can feel his hard cock, hot and throbbing, trapped between his stomach and yours.
You look up at him with watering eyes and defiance. But his expression is so soft and sweet, so delighted, that it soothes you. After a moment, you return his smile, although you can't stop yourself from whining slightly with every breath. "I did. You're right. But please... I need you."
"You have me, my lady."
In this brief pause, tenderness mingles with absolute desire, and you can see the deep affection he holds for you. You kiss him, and he welcomes your hungry tongue into his mouth with a strong hand on your cheek. There is a warm wetness against your stomach. He's so wound up for you, he's leaking and desperate. But he has more composure than you - he always does.
"Finish me," you beg against his lips. "Finish us."
Your words make him groan. He runs his hand from your cheek and down your side, squeezing your waist. "Onto your side, my lady."
He lifts himself up from the bed and watches you do as he asks, and then he settles behind you. Your back presses against his chest, and your head drops to the side when he kisses your neck adoringly. With a sure touch, he hooks his hand under the back of your knee, and he lifts it to give him the room to slide back inside of you.
"Ah, my lady." He moans against your ear as he finds himself home in you again. You like it when he moans. You told him this once, and it took him a while to get used to. It took practice. But now, although it's quiet, he gives you those noises. His mouth is against your ear, and his sighs and grunts and moans fill your senses. Between your legs, his cock fills you, too.
He winds his arm further around your leg to keep it lifted as his fingers touch your cunt again. They ghost over where your bodies join, and they catch your wetness and rub firm circles over your clit.
"Yes," you whine. "There."
The bed creaks under you as his pace quickens. The noises of his skin slapping against yours are obscene, and the groans of your name from Osferth mingle with them. He groans your name again and again like a prayer, like it's sacred. To him, perhaps it is. To him, you are sacred.
You fling your hand back to press against his slender hip as together, you climb higher and higher, and he reaches his peak first. He presses his cheek against yours where you lay, and the gesture itself feels as intimate as anything else you have shared. His whole body tightens closer to yours as his hips stutter and his eyes roll back and he pulls out just in time. Against your backside he grinds, and you feel his seed shoot hot up your back. His fingers still work you hard and fast, and as he comes down from his peak, you reach yours.
Your whole body jerks as you finally find your orgasm. Your legs clamp shut around his hand but he doesn't release you - his fingers dig into you and massage you until you whimper and squirm, until finally all the tension is released. His hand remains there, but it stops moving. As your cunt twitches in aftershocks, he holds it firm, keeping you stable, keeping you comfortable.
"Oh, Osferth," you pant. He sighs your name in reply. When your body begins to cool, and you return to yourself a little more, you roll onto your stomach and pull his pillow under your head. Your eyes close in bliss.
He gets up from the bed but returns before you have much of a chance to miss him. You feel him wipe a damp cloth over your back. It makes goosebumps appear on your skin. He always looks after you so well. "Thank you."
A few more moments pass, and then the mattress sinks next to you, and you feel him lie next to you. A gentle touch traces up your spine. He begins drawing shapes on your skin with a single finger. Eyes still closed, you smile. A kiss is pressed against your shoulder. Then, to your neck, and your cheek. Finally, Osferth leaves a tender kiss on your lips.
"You are very dear to me," he murmurs.
Your eyes open slowly, and you meet his blue gaze. "You're very dear to me, too."
He whispers your name, and kisses you gently again. "I didn't know..."
"What, Osferth?"
He mulls his words over before speaking them. He runs his knuckles along your cheek tenderly. "I didn't know that pleasure could feel like this."
"Like what?" you ask, smiling slightly.
"Like holiness."
You glance at his lips. How pretty they look when he whispers, and how pretty they look now as he licks them, waiting nervously for your answer. You can't stop yourself from kissing them before replying. "You make me feel holy, Osferth."
"As you do me." He murmurs your name, and strokes your hair. "I don't want to leave this room. I want to stay with you today."
"Then stay." Your voice is quiet, as sleep is calling you. "Don't leave me. Please don't ever leave me."
He smiles and kisses your cheek. "I'll do my best, my lady. I'll do my best to always be yours."
#osferth x reader#osferth x ofc#osferth x female reader#osferth x y/n#osferth x you#osferth x oc#ewan mitchell#tlk fanfic#mine#writing fics with mentions of christianity its more common than u might think!!!!!!!!#im a good english girl and we dont have religious guilt we have religious eroticism#if youre not feeling a weird sense of holiness when shagging are you even doing it right#good sex is just the creation of delight and honestly? whats holier than that!!!!!!!!!#mine pwp
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● Verecundia II
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Relative Reader
Word Count: 2k
Content Warnings: This is very much 18+, make love not war vibes. Not suitable for minors.
A/N: I got the serious urge to write some good old fashioned smut, and realized the stories I've written so far have endings that pave the way for it so here we are. I was torn between Aemond and Daemon, but whoever I didn't write for this time will be next in line, so there will be a continuation of the 'Superbia' story that will be..porn, basically. Hopefully you enjoy this nonsense, I appreciate every reader beyond words ♡
tagging my lovely friend @sylas-the-grim
It is a difficult journey, made torturous with rolling waves and the hot sun bearing down upon the ship. She stays away from the deck as much as possible, hidden from view. The journey is to last no more than three days, she is told. Never did time feel so punishing.
She is grateful, still. Escape did not come easily, or unaided. A loyal maid and a knight braver than most had helped her when she needed it most and she would not forget their kindness. Her maid tries to make her more comfortable, the knight stands guard by the door. Comfort will cease to exist aboard the ship, particularly in her condition.
The babe in her belly has taken to exploring the limits of their space, giving particularly hard kicks when a rough wave crashes against the side of the ship. She gently glides her hand along her bump, whispering words of comfort. She thinks of Aemond in those moments, in most moments.
There was no way for her to know where exactly he was, what he was doing, if he had been dragged back home. He had nothing waiting for him there now. She did. A husband who would return to find his bed empty, no sign of his wife and their unborn child. Her unborn child.
Perhaps he would demand action. Roar with the ferocity of a beast. Refuse to sleep, eat or rest until his wife was returned to him. If he completed even one of those actions she would have been immensely surprised. Most likely he would return from his latest far flung, blood-soaked adventure, not even notice the absence of his wife, then march back out to the next battle.
That suited her perfectly. She would be away from prying eyes, be made to feel no shame when her child emerged with silver hair her husband could not claim heritage to. She would carve out a new life, a life she wanted. As much as she could be allowed, at least.
How can one live a life they have dreamt of without the one who inspires their dreams?
She has a great capacity for happiness, but Aemond enhances it so. To feel true joy is to be with him, bask in his company.
She misses being with him, even just to be in the same room with him. Some of her fondest memories are of the times she would sit by her bedroom window, watching Aemond slip free from the bonds of his thoughts. He would read a book, clean a knife, study a text with peace upon his face, content.
Those moments are deeply nestled in her heart, they bring her joy when she is most needing of it. Though joy is not her only need.
Even when she was back in King's Landing, waiting for Aemond's return, she had begun to feel a new level of yearning for him. Now she feels feral, like a trapped animal. She aches everywhere, nothing will relieve the pain. She sends her maid to fetch her more water, crawls upon her bed on her knees and grips the thin blankets.
Her eyes close, a breath escapes her body. She tries desperately to banish the thoughts of Aemond from her mind. All she wants is to have him kneel behind her, his strong hands caressing her and taking away the aches. His mouth trailing kisses along her hot skin, so slowly it is almost torture. His hard, flushed cock sinking into the dripping heat of her core, making her cry out with relief.
Alas, the fantasy only serves to make reality more difficult. She cannot have him, his touch. She does what she can to ease some of the ache herself, but it is never the same.
The journey is nearing it's end, and it is not a moment too soon. She wraps herself in the grey cloak she had stolen away in, walking out to the deck with the knight behind her. The sea is calm, the air feels clean. She looks at the harbor stretched out before them, taking a deep breath.
There is no time to take in the sights when they set foot on land, there are arrangements to follow up on, if they even still exist. She had written to a distant cousin, one she trusted with her life. Her request for assistance had been accepted, and she could only hope that the arrangement was still intact.
As it transpired, it was indeed intact. Her cousin had a beautiful home, which she was welcomed into along with her maid and her knight. She relished in the opportunity to bathe, sinking into the hot water and feeling a desire to float infinitely.
Once she feels clean and more human than she has in days, she makes plans for her next move. Her maid goes to get her something to eat, leaving her alone in her room. She looks out from the balcony to the city below, wondering if Aemond is somewhere amongst the crowds.
She would not be allowed to leave the house freely, protests and arguments of it being too dangerous would be thrown at her. But she would not hide away, be hidden.
When dusk falls over the city, she makes her escape. She had told her maid she was taking to her bed for the night, she did not wish to be disturbed. While she had not visited the house since she was a young girl, the memories of how to sneak away from it had not eluded her.
Cape draped around her, she makes her way into the city. It is bigger than she remembered, so much more vivid than King's Landing. Colour is everywhere, from the buildings to the clothes people wear. There are flowers everywhere, bright barrels of fruits and vegetables lining the streets. The smells of a hundred different foods, the busy humming of chatter, laughter, bustling about.
She turns from one glorious street to another, making her way through the crowds. She could get lost in a million different ways, everything seemed appealing.
Nothing more so than what she spots further along the street. Despite the dark cloak he wears, she would know him anywhere, in every lifetime.
She has to stop herself from breaking into a sprint, her breath caught in her throat as she makes her way to him. He turns as she nears him, her heart lurching in her chest as he sees her.
He does not move, his body rooted to the spot. She keeps walking, closing the gap that had been them until they are standing across from each other for the first time in what felt like an age.
"No hello?" She teases, a smile on her lips as she lets her cloak open slightly, placing her hand on her swollen bump. "For either of us?"
His eye grows wide. He glances to her belly before looking back to her face. He does not ask with words.
"I would not travel all this way were it not your doing," She smiles, taking a step closer. "your wish was granted."
A smirk tugs at his lips. She feels a surge of desire flare inside her. He steps closer, his hand touching her cheek.
"I have missed you more than words can possibly express." He murmurs, eye locked on hers. He leans in, she pulls back, a smirk on her lips.
"Do you really think a kiss will be enough to satisfy me?" She asks, gently clutching his cloak. "You've been gone a long while, without so much as a word sent."
He watches her for a moment, his hand coming to rest on hers.
"What would you have me do?"
She thinks about it for a moment, as though she has not already been aware of what she wants for many moons.
"It would depend upon your patience," She replies, the feeling of his hand on hers already making her heart pound."You can fuck me right here in the street, or take me to whatever hole you've stowed away in and fuck me there."
The look in his eye makes her think that maybe he will actually fuck her where they stand, her body feeling hot at the thought.
"As you wish." He smirks, moving her hand down his cloak, intertwining their fingers before turning away and guiding her through the streets.
She does not know if they walk for moments or moons, does not care. He leads her to a beautiful house, she would not care if it was a crumbling ruin.
They barely make it to the bedroom. Clothes are shed, a trail created leading to them. She could not possibly forget how it feels to kiss him, but she does not object to the reminder. She cannot get enough, she wants him to steal her every breath.
He relishes the changes to her body. Takes his time to appreciate every inch of her. She pleads with him for more when she fears she will tumble over the edge from his worship of her breasts, only to have him trail slow, wet kisses along her belly.
His hands are everywhere and yet always just out of reach from where she needs them. He knows it, enjoys to prolong his exquisite torture. Her eyes grow wide when she feels his breath ghost over her achingly wet core.
It has been too long, no fantasy of him between her legs can compare to the real thing. The warmth of his tongue against her most sensitive skin, the teasing flick he gives her. She closes her eyes tightly, hands gripping the sheets. He wraps his hands around her thighs, pulls her to him.
He takes her apart slowly, enjoying her frustrated moans. He lets anger mix with her pleasure before he gives her what she truly wants. The tip of his tongue licks a long stripe along her folds, his lips closing in on her where she needs it most.
She feels as though her orgasm has been ripped from her body in the most wonderful way, lifting her hand to her forehead and struggling to catch her breath.
But he is not finished. Before she can breathe he is buried inside her, his hands catching hers and holding them down on the bed. Every ache she has ever felt is melted away as he thrusts deeply into her, filling her and stretching her until she cries.
He kisses her, she uses the opportunity to push him onto his back. She rides him as though the world is ending and this is how they will die. He pulls up, wrapping his arms around her. She touches his face, feeling more powerful than she ever has.
She slowly peels away his patch, her fingers delicately tracing a line above the glinting sapphire.
He kisses her fiercely, pushes her back onto the bed and brings her over the edge with a cry.
They lay together for hours, slowly touching each other. Exchanging soft kisses. Embracing being reunited.
"I want us to be wed," He tells her, his hand gently resting on her belly. "I do not want to deny you what you deserve."
"I am wed," She teases, trailing her fingers along his arm. "you wish to make a sinner of me."
"There is no need to wish for that which already exists," He smirks. "You are wed in law, not execution."
She watches him for a moment, her fingers stilling their movement as she touches his arm.
"Then show me what it is to be wed, truly."
They steal out of a warm night, find a small Sept.
He places a dark cloak upon her shoulders. She takes off his mask.
They kiss for the first time as man and wife.
Vhagar flies them over the bay, the moonlight casting a glow over them as they look down at the light of the city below.
Mere weeks later, their son is brought into the world, the most perfect thing they have ever seen.
They are home.
#aemond targaryen#hotd#hotd fanfic#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond targaryen
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